bp  Jflt.  Robinson. 


VERMONT:  A  Study  of  Independence.  In 
American  Commonwealths  Series.  With  Map. 
i6mo,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

DANVIS    FOLKS.     A  Novel.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

IN    NEW   ENGLAND   FIELDS   AND   WOODS. 

i6mo,  $1.25. 
UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING.     i6mo,  $1.25. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   &  CO. 
BOSTOX  AND  NEW  YORK. 


UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING 


BY 


ROWLAND    E.  ROBINSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "  UNCLE  LISHA's  SHOP,"  "  DANVIS  FOLKS,"  ETC. 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

(Cfre  fitoErjsi&e  JDrejsjs,  Cambri&oe 

1897 


COPYRIGHT    1897    BY   ROWLAND  E.  ROBINSON 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  PLANNING  THE  CAMPAIGN 1 

II.  A  REKINDLED  CAMPFIKE 9 

III.  ALONG  THE  SHORE 15 

IV.  THE  DUCKS  OF  LITTLE  OTTER  ....  23 
V.  A  WAY  STATION 32 

VI.  VISITORS  IN  CAMP 42 

VII.  THE  CANADA  BOAT        .        .        .        .        .        .54 

VIII.  A  SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE  U.  G.  R.  R.  .        .        .  61 

IX.  LE  FEU  FOLLET 74 

X.  THE  CANADA  BOAT  DEPARTS     ....  83 

XI.  THE  EAST  SLANG   .                 03 

XII.  A  SPORTSMAN 10-3 

XIII.  A  WILD  GOOSE  CHASE 118 

XIV.  MUD  TURTLE 135 

XV.  A  DAY  INLAND 158 

XVI.  STORY-TELLING 170 

XVII.  UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  GO  VOYAGING    .        .  182 

XVIII.  A  CRUSOE  OF  THE  MARSHES     ....  199 

XIX.  AROUND  THE  FIRE 213 

XX.  SUNGAHNEETOOK 223 

XXI.  AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION 243 

XXII.  UNEXPECTED  VISITORS 262 

XXIII.  WOMEN'S  DAY 276 

XXIV.  THE  CARAVAN                                                       .  289 


2046115 


UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 


CHAPTEE  I. 

PLANNING   THE   CAMPAIGN. 

THE  company  in  Uncle  Lisha's  shop,  after  dis 
coursing  of  hunting  and  lamenting  the  decrease  of 
game,  lapsed  into  a  meditative  silence,  which  was 
broken  at  last  by  Sam  Level's  deep-toned,  deliber 
ate  voice. 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  I  'm  jest  a-hankerin'  tu  go 
daown  tu  Leetle  Otter  Crik,  a-duck-huiitm'.  Don't 
ye  remember,  Antwine,  what  a  mess  on  'em  the' 
was,  a-hengin'  raound,  that  spring  we  was  a-trap- 
pin'  ?  The'  must  be  sights  on  'em  there  in  the 
fall,  when  the  wild  oats  is  ripe." 

The  Canadian  grunted  emphatic  assent  without 
interrupting  his  energetic  pulls  at  a  pipeful  of 
damp  tobacco  till  it  was  in  full  blast ;  then  he  gave 
further  testimony. 

"  Yas,  seh,  dey  was  great  many  dauk  dat  tarn, 
but  naow  dey  was  two  dauk  quarrly  for  every  wil' 


2  UNCLE  LISHA' S  OUTING. 

boat,  an'  dey  was  more  as  bonded  taousan'  busliil 
wil'  boat." 

"  That 's  ruther  more  'n  I  should  ha'  sot  'em  at," 
said  Uncle  Lisha,  punching  a  hole  in  a  patch  with 
a  crooked  awl  and  inserting  the  bristle  of  a  waxed 
end.  "  But  I  've  seen  slews  on  'em  on  the  ma'shes, 
an'  I  do'  know  's  you  're  lyin'  much,  for  you,  Ann 
Twine.  Why  don't  ye  go,  Samwil,  you  an'  Solen 
an'  Jozeff  an'  Peltier  an'  'mongst  ye  ?  Ye  might 
jest  as  well  as  not,  right  arter  ye  git  y'r  corn  cut 
up,  an'  stay  a  good  spell,  'fore  tater  diggin'." 

"  Bah  gosh !  Ah  '11  go,  me,"  cried  Antoine. 
"  Ah  '11  can  show  you  haow  for  shot  de  dauk  ! 
Ah  '11  was  be  preffick  mans  for  kill  dauk,  me." 

"  Me  an'  yer  father  an'  the  women  folks  c'ld  git 
along  wi'  the  chores,  julluck  rollin'  off  'm  a  lawg," 
Uncle  Lisha  continued  without  noticing  the  Cana 
dian's  self -invitation,  "  an'  I  don't  see  as  there 's 
no  thin'  tu  hender  ye  goin'." 

Sam  pondered  the  proposition  for  a  considerable 
time  before  he  replied  with  a  question. 

"  Why  won't  you  go,  Uncle  Lisher  ?  The  chores 
hain't  no  gret,  an'  I  c'ld  git  Billy  Wiggins  tu  help 
du  'em." 

"  Me  go  ? "  said  Uncle  Lisha,  casting  a  quick 
glance  011  Sam  to  see  if  he  meant  what  he  was  say 
ing.  "  Good  airth  an'  seas  !  I  'm  tew  ol'  tu  go 
skylarkin'  raound  wi'  a  passel  o'  boys  !  I  should 
jest  sp'ile  the  rest  on  ye's  fun.  Better  take  yer 
father,  Samwil." 


PLANNING   THE  CAMPAIGN.  3 

"You  couldn't  snaike  him  daown  there  wi'  a 
yoke  o'  oxen.  He  'd  a  sight  druther  stay  'long  wi' 
the  women  folks.  You  would  n't  spile  no  fun,  an' 
if  we  settle  on  goin'  you  got  tu  go  tew." 

"  Yas,  seh,  you  jes'  good  leetly  boy  as  we  was, 
One'  Lasha,"  Antoine  declared  for  his  further 
encouragement. 

The  old  man  sat  meditating  for  some  time  with 
idle  hands  upon  his  knees  before  he  answered :  — 

"  Wai,  the'  hain't  no  denyin'  but  what  I  'd  luf 
tu.  I  use  tu  squirmish  raound  them  ma'shes  con- 
sid'able  when  I  was  a  '  whippin'  the  cat '  daown 
there  thirty  year  ago.  An'  I  sh'ld  luf  tu  see  the 
folks.  I  p'sume  tu  say  the 's  some  'at  hain't  fergot 
me  yit.  But  I  guess  I  'd  ortu  stay  tu  hum  an' 
help  yer  father  an'  the  women  folks."  He  heaved 
a  sigh  of  resignation  and  gave  the  patch  a  resolute 
punch  with  the  awl. 

"  You  need  n't  let  that  hender  ye,"  said  Pelatiah 
Gove,  "  for  I  c'n  turn  tu  an'  help  'm  if  the  's  any 
extry  job." 

"  Why,  you  '11  go  'long  wi'  us,  Peltier,"  said  Sam. 

Pelatiah  shook  his  head  in  slow  but  determined 
negation.  '^  No,  I  don't  want  to  go  —  not  down 
there,"  and  they  all  knew  why. 

"  Wai,  you  '11  go,  Jozeff  ?  "  Sam  asked. 

The  first  response  was  a  dubious  squeak  of  the 
rickety  chair  as  Joseph  Plill  shifted  his  position  in 
slow  perturbation  of  spirit,  and  then  as  he  leaned 


UNCLE  LISHAS  OUTING. 

cautiously  aside  to  inspect  his  unstable  seat,  as 
suring  himself  in  an  undertone,  "  I  ruther  guess 
't  won't,  not  yit,"  he  answered  :  — 

"  Wai,  I  s'pose  I  'd  ortu,  an'  then  agin  I  s'pose 
I  heel  n't  ortu.  I  'd  ortu  go  an'  git  rested  up, 
which  I  hain't  hed  no  chance  sence  hayin'.  Then 
agin  the 's  lot  tu  du  'at  I  hain't  seemed  to  git 
raound  tu,  an'  father  he  's  kinder  peaked,  do'  know 
but  he 's  sorter  failin',  do'  know  's  I  ever  see  him 
quite  so  docyle.  An'  I  do'  know  as  M'ri  an'  Bub 
c'ld  git  along  wi'  the  chores  erless  they  c'n  punch 
that  'ere  'Lige  Kellick  tu  help  'em  some,  they  can't 
never  git  him  up  tu,  in  the  mornin',  the  lazy  shote. 
But  I  do'  know  ?s  father  'd  let  me  hev  his  gun,  if 
Bub  'Id  spare  it.  He  's  a-whangin'  raound  wi'  't 
ev'y  chance  he  gits.  But  if  the  ducks  is  as  thick 
as  you  tell  on,  it  seem  's  'ough  a  feller  c'ld  git 
feathers  'nough  tu  fill  a  tick,  an'  that 's  jest  what 
M'ri  wants.  I  got  tu  make  that  the  main  p'int  in 
talkin'  on  't  over  with  M'ri,  an'  I  can't  answer  fer 
sartain  until  I  du,  but  I  'm  hopesin'  the  feathers  '11 
fetch  her." 

"  An'  what  du  you  say,  Solen  ?  "  Sam  asked. 

Solon  Briggs  heaved  a  sigh  so  deep  that  it  served 
to  clear  his  throat  as  well  as  to  express  regret. 

"  Well,  I  'm  obleeged  tu  say  that  my  goin'  on 
sech  a  taower  has  got  tu  be  forewent,  because  I 
have  heretobefore  gin  my  bonafied  promise  tu  Mis' 
Briggs,  betwixt  hoein's,  tu  take  her  over  tu  Adams 


PLANNING   THE  CAMPAIGN.  5 

to  visit  her  folks,  if  she  'd  wait  till  after  hayin', 
which  she  hevin'  done  so,  I  can't  intricate  myself 
aout  on,  hon'able." 

"  I  s'pose  not,"  Sam  admitted,  "  but  I  s'pect  all 
on  us  'at  goes  hev  got  tu  talk  aour  women  folks 
raound  fust.  They  geii'ally  hev  objections  tu  stag 
parties.  If  it  hain't  the  work  'at  ortu  be  done,  it 's 
your  health.  Stag  parties  is  turrible  onhealthy." 

"  Bah  gosh,"  said  Antoine,  straightening  and 
swelling  himself  to  his  greatest  dimensions  and 
speaking  in  a  big  voice,  "  when  Ah  '11  took  motion 
Ah  '11  goin'  somewhere,  mah  hwomans  make  off 
hees  min'  Ah  '11  goin',  an'  ant  said  not'ing  'f  he 
ant  want  hees  head  slap." 

"  "Wall,"  Solon  said,  "  my  idee  is,  'at  moral  per 
suasion  goes  furder  'n  rambumptiousness  in  argyin' 
wi'  femaline  folks." 

"  Antwine  's  got  the  advantage  o'  most  on  us," 
Sam  explained,  "  in  hevin'  of  him  a  '  he '  wife  'at 's 
twicte  as  big  as  what  he  is." 

"  O  Sam,  no  he  ant,  too !  Ah  tol'  you,  seh, 
Ah  '11  took  it  w'en  he  was  young  an'  Ah  '11  brought 
it  up  for  suit  me,  not  hesef .  Ant  you  see,  hein  ?  " 

"  Wai,  I  cal'late  the  truth  on  't  is,  she  's  glad  tu 
git  red  on  ye  as  often  as  she  ken,"  Uncle  Lisha 
said  as  he  rubbed  down  the  seam  with  the  handle 
of  the  awl. 

"  It  'pears  'ough  aour  huntin'  party  was  sim 
mered  daown  tu  Uncle  Lisher  an'  Jozeff  an'  An- 


6  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

twine  an'  me,  anyways,  for  Peltier  won't  an'  Solon 
can't  an'  mebby  the'  can't  none  on  us,  not  for  sar- 
tain'  'fore  we  find  aout  what  aour  women  folks 
says.  But  s'posin'  we  du  go,  we  want  tu  Lorry  Pel 
tier's  scaow  boat— over  't  the  pond,  haint  it,  Pel 
tier  ?  —  for  Uncle  Lisher  an'  Jozeff,  an'  me  an' 
Antwine  '11  hev  my  canew,  an'  we  c'n  Iwud  them 
an'  aour  tent  ontu  a  waggin  an'  drive  daown  within 
tew  rod  o'  where  we  camped  when  we  went  fishin', 
an'  git  aour  team  kep'  somewher's  nigh." 

"  Why,  Samwil,  you  've  got  us  so  nigh  there 
a' ready,  I  can  e'enamost  smell  the  campfire,"  said 
Uncle  Lisha. 

"  We  don't  want  tu  kerry  no  gre't  v'riety  o'  per- 
visions,"  Sam  continued,  "  jest  some  pork  an'  taters 
an'  a  leetle  smidgin  o'  bread  tu  start  on  —  we  c'n 
buy  bread  o'  the  folks  daown  there  when  we  git 
aout,  an',  le'  me  see  " 

"  An'  onion  ;  Ah  '11  drudder  not  have  had  any- 
t'ing  as  not  had  onion,  me." 

"  Of  course,  so  's  't  you  c'n  be  strong  whilst  we 
suffer,"  said  Sam,  and  went  on  enumerating  the 
necessaries  of  the  trip.  "  An'  a  slew  o'  paowder 
an'  shot  an'  caps  an'  waddin'  an'  blankets  an'  lemmc 
see  what  else?  " 

"Why,  Samwil,  you  goin'  tu  du  julluk  t'other 
feller  'at  went  a-huntin'  ?  He  got  already  tu  start 
wi'  his  ammernition  Iwuded  intu  his  pockets,  an' 
tu  make  sure  he  hed  n't  forgot  nothin'  he  went 


PLANNING   THE  CAMPAIGN.  1 

over  'em  all.  '  Here  's  my  shot,'  says  he,  a-slappiii' 
his  hand  on  one  pocket,  '  an'  there  's  my  paowder,' 
a-puttin'  his  han'  on  another, '  an'  there  's  my  caps.' 
All  right,'  an'  off  he  went  till  he  come  tu  the 
woods,  an'  a  pa'tridge  a-stan'in'  on  a  lawg,  not  six 
rod  off.  '  By  thunder ! '  says  he,  '  I  hev  forgot 
suthin',  an'  it 's  my  gun.'  " 

"Yes,"  Sam  said,  "guns  might  be  bendy  an' 
we  '11  have  us  some,  an'  le'  me  see  " 

"  We  want  tu  kerry  a  gre't  big  bag  tu  put  them 
'ere  feathers  in,"  said  Joseph  Hill ;  "I  do'  know 
as  sech  an  almighty  gre't  bag,  but  a  tollable  mid- 
dlin'-sized  sort  o'  bag ;  but  I  've  got  tu  kerry  a  bag 
for  'em'  if  I  don't  kerry  nothin'  else,  'cause  the  heft 
o'  my  argyment  lays  in  them  feathers.  An'  Sam- 
wil  an'  Uncle  Lisher,"  he  leaned  far  forward  and 
spoke  in  a  loud,  impressive  whisper  which  was  em 
phasized  by  a  prolonged  creak  of  the  unstable 
chair,  "  you  don't  want  tu  say  nothin'  'baout  it  tu 
your  women  folks,  'cause  they  'd  up  an'  tell  M'ri 
an'  then  daown  'ould  go  my  shanty."  He  settled 
back  in  his  seat  with  spasmodic  chuckles,  to  which 
the  chair  responded  with  a  series  of  short  squeaks, 
then  its  legs  began  to  slip  and  sprawl  apart ;  there 
was  a  gathering  sound  of  splitting  and  breaking 
wood  fibres,  till  with  a  final  crash  and  resounding 
bump  chair  and  occupant  went  down  to  the  floor 
together. 

"  I  'm  almighty  glad  on 't,"  Uncle  Lisha  roared, 


8  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

almost  like  an  echo  of  the  brief  sudden  uproar. 
"  I  wish't  it  had  bruk  two  year  ago,  the  dumb'd 
squeakin'  thing.  Open  the  stove  door,  Peltier,  an' 
chuck  in  the  pieces  'fore  some  tarnal  fool  sets  tu 
mendin'  it.  Hurt  ye  any,  Jozeff?" 

"  Wai,  not  ra'ly,"  Joseph  answered,  looking 
helpless  and  foolish  as  he  sat  amid  the  ruins.  "  I 
sot  daown  a  little  sollider  'an  I  cal'lated  tu,  an' 
it  jarred  me  some,  an'  I  b'lieve  I  bit  my  tongue, 
seems  's  'ough." 

"  Where  was  de  litlin'  struck?  "  Antoiiie  asked  ; 
and  Aunt  Jerusha,  appearing  at  the  door  of  the 
kitchen,  cried  out  in  a  tremor  of  anxiety :  - 

"  What  in  the  livin'  airth !  Has  the  stove  fell 
daown  ?  Lisher  Peggs,  be  you  hevin'  a  fit?  " 

"  It 's  that  dumb'd  chair,  an'  I  'm  glad  on  't." 

"  It 's  fort'nate  'at  the  linter  hain't  underminded 
by  no  suller,"  said  Solon,  as  he  viewed  the  wreck, 
"  or  Jozeff  might  have  been  promulgated  into  the 
dep's." 

"  Sam  Hill !  "  Joseph  ejaculated,  as  he  began  to 
push  aside  the  wreckage  with  deliberate  hands  pre 
paratory  to  rising.  "  Ef  that  wan't  a  kerwollups ! 
Wai,  I  guess  I  '11  g'  hum  an'  kinder  begin  tu  hint 
tu  M'ri  'baout  the  feathers.  Don't  seem  's  'ough  I 
sot  daown  on  none  that  time  sca'cely."  And  as  he 
went  forth  the  other  visitors  departed  after  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   REKINDLED    CAMPFIRE. 

THE  household  divinities  proved  kind,  and  when 
Sam's  cornfield  had  lost  its  semblance  to  a  miniature 
tropical  jungle  and  had  taken  on  the  likeness  of  a 
village  of  aboriginal  wigwams,  he  and  his  friends 
set  forth  for  the  lowlands  in  the  chill,  vaporous 
stillness  of  a  September  dawn. 

The  silence  continued  undisturbed  save  by  the 
echoed  rumbling  of  the  wagon  over  the  first  mile 
or  two  of  the  road,  and  from  the  woodside  by  the 
clamorous  assault  of  crows  upon  some  furred  or 
feathered  enemy. 

At  length  the  travelers  began  to  hear  other 
sounds  of  life,  first  the  muffled  indoor  clatter  of  a 
stove  being  made  ready  for  lighting  the  fire,  inter 
rupted  by  the  creaky  opening  of  a  door  as  the  half- 
clad  fire-builder  peered  forth  to  see  who  was  faring 
abroad  so  early  and  to  wonder  why,  if  not  to  ask. 
Then  the  sleepy  voice  of  a  cowboy  arousing  the 
herd  while  he  was  but  half  awake,  and  presently 
the  clattering  of  milk-pails,  the  clank  of  bars,  and 
creak  of  barnyard  gates.  Next  came  from  kitchens 


10  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

appetizing  sounds  of  breakfast-getting  and  voices 
of  women,  high-pitched  above  the  clatter  of  table 
ware,  the  screech  of  frying-pans,  the  songs  of 
kettles,  and  the  punching  of  reluctant  fires.  A 
little  later,  the  voices  of  children  arose,  drowsily  at 
first,  then  breaking  forth  in  all  the  volubility  of 
refreshed  life  and  action,  and  the  day  was  fairly 
begun  for  every  one. 

Then  people  were  fallen  in  with  on  the  highway, 
faring  one  way  and  the  other,  and  men  and  teams 
were  seen  going  afield.  By  and  by  conchs  and 
horns  began  to  sound  at  farmsteads  far  and  near, 
the  long-drawn  dinner  call,  that,  though  not  for  our 
travelers,  reminded  them  that  they  were  hungry. 

They  halted  in  the  first  inviting  wayside  shade 
to  feed  their  horses  and  themselves,  and  unhurried 
by  the  sequence  of  after-dinner  chores  ate  more 
deliberately  even  than  they  did  at  home,  aiding 
digestion  by  slowly  ruminated  mouthfuls,  while 
their  eyes  wandered  over  unfamiliar  surroundings. 

Then  they  went  forward,  the  course  of  the  day 
marked  by  one  and  another  visible  or  audible  sign 
as  the  progress  of  their  journey  was  by  the  chang 
ing  landscape,  till  at  mid-afternoon  they  were  in 
the  level  lowlands  with  their  own  mountains  as  blue 
behind  them  as  the  nameless  peaks  of  the  Adiron- 
dacks  before  them. 

"  The  lay  o'  the  land  here  is  consid'able  like  the 
West,"  Uncle  Lisha  remarked  to  his  companions 


A  REKINDLED   CAMPFIEE.  11 

as  they  lumbered  between  broad  fields  of  pasture, 
meadow,  and  stubble  land,  after  crossing  Little 
Otter  for  the  last  time  at  its  lower  falls.  "  Oii'y 
the  's  more  woods  'an  what  the'  is  where  I  was.  I 
cal'late  this  'ere  's  a  good  enough  country  for  most 
anybody  tu  live  in,  level  'nough  so  't  you  need  n't 
roll  off,  an'  hills  an'  maountaiiis  so  's  'at  your  eye 
sight  don't  git  tired  a  trav'lin'  't  the  eend  o'  the 
airth.  But  I  d'  know  but  what  I  'd  hanker  arter 
the  smell  o'  spreuce  an'  balsam  if  I  lived  here." 

"  Dey  ant  got  no  Injin  or  greasily  bear  here, 
prob'ly,"  Antoine  remarked  by  way  of  comparison 
with  the  West. 

"  Sho,  Ann  Twine,  the'  wan't  no  Injins  tu  hurt 
nob'dy  where  I  was,  an'  them  grizzly  bears  is  way 
aout  furder  where  the  's  buffaloes  an'  wil'  Injins." 

"  Ah  '11  s'pose  dey  call  it  greasily  bear  'cause  it 
was  so  fat,  ant  he,  prob'ly?" 

"Wai,  no,  I  cal'late  they  call  'em  grizzly  'cause 
they  're  so  almighty  tough  an'  chuck  full  o'  grizzle. 
They  say  you  can  shoot  'em  so  full  o'  lead  'at 
they  '11  sink  in  water  afore  they  '11  die." 

"  Bah  gosh,  dey  more  wusser  as  you  hoi'  sprim 
gawn  bear  ant  he,  One'  Lasha  ?  " 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west  and  cows  were  com 
ing  home  through  goldenrod  and  aster  bordered 
lanes  and  dusty  highways  when  the  travelers  jolted 
over  the  ruinous  Slang  bridge.  Half  an  hour  later 
they  were  at  the  old  campground  on  the  rocky 


12  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

bluff,  its  place  still  marked  by  a  russet  mat  of  de 
caying  cedar  twigs  and  the  stone  fireplace  which 
Aiitoine  was  delighted  to  find  in  serviceable  con 
dition.  He  at  once  got  the  necessary  provisions 
and  utensils  from  the  wagon  and  set  about  get 
ting  supper  while  the  others  unloaded  the  wagon 
and  pitched  the  tent. 

Sam  drove  away  to  the  nearest  farmhouse  to  find 
keeping  for  the  horses,  and  after  a  while  came 
stumbling  out  of  the  gathering  gloom  into  the  light 
of  the  campfire,  to  which  his  nose  guided  him  as 
well  as  his  eyes,  for  Antoine's  cookery  diffused  a  far- 
reaching  savory  odor  to  direct  and  hasten  the  steps 
of  a  hungry  man. 

The  camp  had  already  taken  on  the  cheerful 
aspect  of  an  established  abiding-place,  blankets  and 
boxes  having  been  stowed  inside  the  tent.  In  front 
of  it  Uncle  Lisha  and  Joseph  sat,  comfortably 
smoking  their  pipes  as  they  quietly  watched  An- 
toine  prancing  around  the  frying-pan  and  potato 
kettle,  while  his  shadow  sprawled  along  the  ground 
and  leaped  from  trunk  to  branch  in  ever-varying 
grotesqueness  of  form  and  motion. 

"  Git  a  put-uppance  fer  the  hosses,  did  ye,  Sam- 
wil  ?  "  Uncle  Lisha  asked,  making  room  for  Sam 
on  the  fireside  log. 

"  Yes,  I  got  'em  turned  aout  tu  paster  arter  some 
coaxin',''  Sam  answered,  seating  himself  in  the 
proffered  place  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  "  But 


A  REKINDLED  CAMP  FIRE.  13 

I  du  hope  we  c'n  keep  Antwine  away  f'm  there, 
fer  I  'm  af eared  if  he  hears  much  o'  the  ol'  feller's 
talk  'at  owns  the  place  he  '11  larn  tu  lie.  Why,  he 
tol'  me,  a-lookin'  as  honest  as  the  cooper's  caow, 
haow  'at  he  was  a-patchin'  the  ruff  of  his  barn,  to 
day,  an'  somehaow  er  nother  he  begin  tu  slip,  an' 
kep'  a-slippin',  an'  could  n't  stop  himself  no  way, 
till  jest  as  he  went  over  the  eaves,  feet  fust  an'  face 
daown,  he  ketched  a  holt  o'  the  aidge  o'  the  shingles 
with  his  teeth,  an'  there  he  hung  till  they  fetched 
a  ladder,  an'  he  clumb  daown." 

"  What  ye  think  o'  that,  Ann  Twine  ?  "  Uncle 
Lisha  asked  the  Canadian,  who  was  cocking  an 
alert  ear  while  his  eyes  were  intent  upon  the  sput 
tering  frying-pan. 

Antoine  blew  away  the  smoke  with  a  contemptu 
ous  "  Pooh,  dat  ant  noting !  Ah  '11  gat  brudder- 
law  in  Canada  was  more  strong  of  his  jaw  as  dat. 
One  tarn  he  run  away  wid  hees  hoss  an'  it  broke 
loose  of  hees  woggin,  an'  he  touch  hoi'  of  de  line 
wid  hees  toof  an'  hang  on  de  woggin  wid  bose  hees 
han'  of  it,  an',  seh,  dat  hoss  run  more  as  mile  'fore 
he  stop  it  up.  Come,  gat  ready  for  heat  you  suppy. 
Fetch  de  bread  an'  de  onion,  Sam,"  and  he  whisked 
the  frying-pan  from  the  fire  to  the  flat  rock  that 
served  as  table,  then  poured  the  water  from  the 
potato  kettle  and  set  it  beside  the  pan. 

"  I  ruther  guess,  Samwil,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  as 
he  arose  and  moved  toward  the  supper,  "  'at  you 


14  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

might  let  Ann  Twine  g'wup   there  if  you  hain't 
feared  for  t'other  feller." 

As  they  smoked  their  after-supper  pipes  and 
planned  the  morrow's  campaign,  in  every  lull  of 
conversation  they  could  hear  the  quacking  and 
splashing  of  the  host  of  ducks  feeding  in  the 
marsh,  and  now  and  then  the  pulsing  whistle  of 
swift  wings  as  a  belated  flock  came  in  from  the 
lake,  and  then  the  restful  sounding  splash  as  the 
newcomers  settled  upon  the  water  to  join  the  feast 
ing  horde.  And  when  the  tired  campers  fell  asleep 
on  the  bed  of  cedar,  these  sounds  still  ran  through 
their  dreams,  a  thread  of  reality  woven  into  the 
misty  fabric. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ALONG  THE    SHORE. 

THE  campers  were  astir  betimes  in  the  silver 
dawn  that  they  counted  of  greater  worth  for  their 
use  than  a  golden  day.  After  a  hasty  breakfast, 
Sam  and  Antoine  embarked  in  the  canoe  at  the 
landing  above  the  Slab  Hole,  where  the  boats  were 
unloaded  the  night  before  ;  but  Uncle  Lisha  and 
Joseph  preferred  the  stable  land  to  the  fickle 
waters,  and  prowled  westward  along  the  lake  shore 
as  slowly  and  almost  as  stealthily  as  a  couple  of 
aged  mud  turtles  might  have  gone  over  the  same 
ground. 

Peering  out  upon  the  bay  through  loopholes  of 
the  cedar-clad  cliff,  they  saw  great  flocks  of  ducks 
riding  safe  and  far  on  the  glassy  water.  The 
nearest  were  a  triple  gunshot  out  of  range  of  this 
shore,  while  many  were  so  tantalizingly  close  to 
Garden  Island  that  the  dusky  lines  cut  the  re 
flected  brightness  of  the  island's  autumnal  splen 
dor. 

"  Good  airth  and  seas  !  "  Uncle  Lisha  whispered, 
as  he  and  Joseph  crouched  on  hands  and  knees, 


16  UNCLE  USJLfVS  OUTING. 

peering  through  the  branches  with  longing  eyes  at 
the  distant  flocks,  "  ef  we  was  on'y  jest  on  that 
'ere  islan'.  I  wonder  if  we  hed  n't  better  go  an' 
git  the  scaow  bwut  an'  go  'way  raound  an'  come 
up  on  t'  other  side  ?  " 

"  Wai,  I  do'  know  'baout  it,"  Joseph  whispered 
dubiously.  "  It 's  a  good  way  off,  seem  's  'ough  it 
was,  an'  the  weather  might  change  cousid'able 
'fore  we  could  git  back.  I  hain't  no  gre't  appetite 
for  water,  not  sech  a  sight  on  't,  an'  I  don't  b'lieve 
I  want  tu  go  aout  'moiigst  so  much  on  't,  not 
sca'cely,  anyways,  not  tu-day." 

"  Wai,  I  wish  the  wind  'ould  change  an'  come 
aouten  the  north,  an'  blow  'em  over  here  er 
suthin'." 

"  Ef  we  hed  us  some  corn  an'  kinder  hove  it 
over  the  bank,  mebby  it  'ould  call  'em  up  tu  us." 
But  as  they  had  not  the  means  at  hand  for  trying 
this  experiment  and  as  no  favoring  gale  blew  the 
ducks  within  range,  but  they  on  the  contrary  began 
to  waddle  out  by  dozens  upon  the  shelving  shore 
of  the  island  to  bask  in  the  sun,  the  two  sportsmen 
reluctantly  withdrew  from  their  point  of  observa 
tion  and  pursued  their  way  along  the  cliff  to  where 
it  slopes  to  the  low  shore  of  a  shallow  bay.  Here 
grew  some  hickory  -  trees  bearing  a  profusion  of 
nuts  as  foreign  to  Danvis  as  the  fruit  of  a  cocoa 
palm.  As  Uncle  Lisha  and  his  companion  were 
filling  their  pockets  with  the  fallen  nuts,  they  sur- 


ALONG   THE  SHORE.  17 

prised  a  gray  squirrel  who  was  rasping  out  his 
breakfast  on  a  lower  branch  and  now  retreated  to 
a  hiding-place  among  the  topmost  leaves.  They 
were  at  once  filled  with  a  desire  to  secure  him  as  a 
trophy  and  a  toothsome  addition  to  camp  fare,  and 
so  with  guns  at  a  ready  they  went  slowly  around 
the  tree,  scanning  every  branch  and  intricacy  of 
leafage,  often  fooled  almost  to  the  point  of  firing 
at  some  semblance  of  the  object  of  their  search, 
but  never  quite  discovering  it. 

"  Wai,"  said  Uncle  Lisha  at  last,  grounding  the 
butt  of  his  gun  and  leaning  on  the  muzzle  while 
he  gazed  wistfully  up  into  the  tree,  "  the  critter  's 
up  there  somewheres,  sartain,  fer  he  hain't  got  no 
wings  an'  the'  hain't  no  tree  he  could  jump  off 
intu.  Naow,  Jozeff,  I  b'lieve  if  you  'd  go  down 
there  tu  the  lake  an'  git  a  han'f '1  o'  stuns,  I  c'ld 
fling  'em  up  in  there  an'  start  the  critter  aout  so 's 
't  we  c'ld  shoot  him.  I  use  'ter  be  tol'able  hendy 
flingin'  stuns." 

Accordingly  Joseph  set  his  gun  against  a  tree 
and  made  for  the  shore  with  all  speed,  which  he 
did  not  abate  till  he  had  crashed  through  the  fringe 
of  cedars  and  come  out  upon  the  stony  beach. 
'Then  to  his  intense  disgust  a  great  flock  of  teal 
arose  almost  at  his  feet  in  a  flurry  of  alarm  at  the 
noise  and  sudden  apparition,  and  went  whistling 
away  far  over  the  bay.  Joseph  stared  after  them 
open  -  mouthed  but  speechless,  till  surprise  and 


18  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

chagrin  took  audible  expression  in  a  long  exhaled 
"  Gosh !  "  and  then,  with  eyes  following  the  swiftly 
retreating  flock :  — 

"  Who  in  Sam  Hill  'spected  you  was  here  ? 
Wai,  there  goes  one  lot  o'  M'ri's  feathers." 

Heaving  another  sigh,  he  turned  his  back  upon 
the  lake,  and  picking  up  an  armful  of  stones  re 
turned  to  his  companion,  inwardly  berating  himself 
at  every  step  and  groaning  over  the  lost  opportu 
nity. 

Uncle  Lisha's  arm  still  possessed  enough  of  the 
strength  and  skill  of  youth  to  dislodge  the  squir 
rel  with  a  few  well-directed  missiles,  and  Joseph 
brought  it  down  after  a  pottering  aim  of  the  long 
gun. 

"  You  done  well,  Jozeff,  an'  your  father  'd  be'n 
praoud  on  ye  if  he  'd  seen  ye,"  said  Uncle  Lisha  as 
he  picked  up  the  squirrel  and  held  it  forth  for  the 
successful  sportsman  to  feast  his  eyes  upon. 

"  Father !  "  cried  Joseph  ruefully.  "  Gosh,  ef 
he  'd  ha'  seen  what  I  done  er  ruther  what  I  did  n't 
du,  he  'd  kick  me  higher  'n  Gilderoy's  kite,  if  't 
won't  for  the  rheumatiz  in  his  laigs.  I  went  a 
kerflummuxin'  daown  yunder  through  the  bushes 
right  slap  ontu  a  snag  o'  ducks  'at  I  might  jes'  V 
well  crep'  up  tu  an'  shot  if  I  'd  on'y  'spected  they 
was  there.  I  bate  ye  the'  was  more  'n  ten  paound 
o'  feathers  on  'em.  But  haow  easy  they  did  kerry 
'em  off,  though." 


ALONG   THE  SHORE.  19 

Uncle  Lislia  lamented  the  chance  which  had  de 
prived  both  of  distinguishing  themselves,  but  con 
soled  Joseph  by  assuming  an  equal  portion  of  the 
blame.  "  An'  iiaow,  who  knows  but  what  the 
critters  '11  come  back  there  arter  they  git  over  their 
scare.  What  fetched  'em  there  oncte  '11  fetch  'em 
ag'in.  Le'  's  go  an'  sed  daown  there  an'  wait." 

Joseph  readily  assented  to  a  plan  which  required 
so  little  exertion,  and  the  two  sat  down  behind  the 
screen  of  evergreens,  where  through  an  opening 
in  the  bushes  they  could  command  a  view  of  the 
shore  and  the  rushy  border  of  the  bay  in  front  of 
them,  and  so  for  half  an  hour  they  sat  enjoying 
their  pipes  and  a  whispered  conversation  no  louder 
than  the  stir  of  the  breeze  among  the  treetops, 
the  patter  of  the  falling  leaves,  and  the  break  of 
the  ripples  on  the  beach.  Suddenly  these  dreamy 
sounds  were  overborne  by  a  pulsing,  sibilant  beat, 
prolonged  in  a  whistle  of  set  wings,  which  ended 
with  a  resounding,  fluttering  splash,  as  a  flock  of 
twenty  or  more  teal  settled  upon  the  water  within 
forty  yards  of  the  ambuscade  and  swam  to  and  fro 
in  busy  inspection  of  their  surroundings. 

"  Aim  int'  the  thick  on'  em,  an'  when  I  caouiit 
three,  fire,"  said  Uncle  Lisha  in  a  trembling  whis 
per  as  he  and  his  companion  cautiously  poked  their 
guns  through  the  bushes  and  took  deliberate  aim. 

"  One  —  tew  —  three,"  Uncle  Lisha  counted, 
and  with  the  sharp  expiration  of  the  last  word  his 


20  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

ancient  queen's  arm  belched  forth  its  mighty  voice. 
Joseph  Hill  pulled  lustily  at  the  trigger  of  his 
half-cocked  piece,  shutting  both  eyes  tighter  as  the 
pull  became  more  desperate,  and  bracing  his  nerves 
for  the  inevitable  recoil  which  must  follow  such  a 
reluctant  discharge. 

"  Sam  Hill !  "  he  ejaculated,  when  at  last  he 
desisted  and  opened  his  eyes  to  see  a  half  dozen 
victims  of  Uncle  Lisha's  shot  floating  belly  up  and 
the  affrighted  survivors  scurrying  away  in  wild 
flight.  "  It  don't  seem 's  'ough  this  plagued  ol' 
gun  was  use  to  shootin'  ducks.  It  don't  'pear  tu 
want  tu  go  off  at  'em." 

"  It  wants  tu  be  cocked  fust,  Jozeff,"  Uncle 
Lisha  remarked,  casting  an  eye  upon  the  unready 
weapon,  as  they  rushed  from  cover  to  secure  the 
game.  "  Cock  her  an'  let  flicker  at  that  waounded 
one.  It  's  a-floppin'  clean  aouten  reach." 

Joseph  stared  a  moment  in  chopfallen  dismay 
at  the  lock  of  his  gun,  then  cocking  it  and  leveling 
the  long  barrel  to  careful  aim,  put  a  merciful  end 
to  the  struggles  of  the  wounded  duck.  By  the  aid 
of  a  pole  and  a  favoring  breeze  the  sportsmen 
were  able  to  gather  their  booty,  —  seven  plump 
teal  in  all,  which  they  ranged  side  by  side  and 
gloated  over  with  as  complete  satisfaction  as  if 
'the  green  beauty  spots  on  each  wing  had  been  as 
many  emeralds.  Then  they  tied  the  birds  in  two 
bunches,  to  the  smaller  of  which  the  squirrel  was 


ALONG   THE  SHORE.  21 

added,  and  these  Uncle  Lisha  magnanimously  per 
mitted  his  less  successful  comrade  to  carry  as  if  it 
were  his  rightful  trophy. 

So  laden,  and  quite  content  to  try  their  fortune 
no  further,  they  set  forth  toward  camp.  As  they 
drew  near  it  Joseph  broke  a  long  interval  of 
silence. 

"  I  've  kinder  be'n  a-thinkin'  on  't  over  in  my 
mind,  Uncle  Lisher,  'at  like  'nough,  mebby,  it 
'ould  be  jes'  's  well  not  tu  say  nothin'  'baout  my 
not  cockin'  my  gun  ;  I  do'  know  but  mebby  it  'ould 
be  full  better  not  tu,  Ann  Twine  's  so  kinder  ag- 
gervatin'." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  Jozeff,  I  won't  say  nothin' ! 
Ef  the  ol'  f uzee  hed  n't  sot  back  so,  I  should  n't 
knowed  whether  it  was  me  or  you  'at  fired,  an'  I 
sh'd  thought  you  hed  if  you  hadn't  said  nothin'. 
It 's  lucky  you  did  n't  er  we  would  n't  ha'  got  that 
'ere  waounded  one.  Pshaw,  I  won't  say  nothin', 
Jozeff." 

The  camp  was  silent  and  deserted  but  for  a 
chipmunk  that  sat  clucking  contentedly  on  the 
rock  table  after  a  feast  of  crumbs.  The  fireplace 
gave  forth  neither  smoke  nor  warmth,  but  only  the 
faint  breath  of  new-made  ashes  and  freshly-charred 
wood.  The  slovenly  array  of  frying-pan,  pot,  and 
tin  plates  stood  cold  and  untouched  since  breakfast, 
and  it  was  evident  that  Sam  and  Antoine  had  not 
returned  since  the  morning  departure. 


22  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  My  sakes ! "  said  Joseph,  as  he  viewed  the 
unhousewifely  scene  with  a  kind  of  a  shamefaced 
satisfaction,  "I  'm  glad  M'ri  hain't  here  to  see 
aour  housekeeping.  She  'd  have  a  tantribogus  fit, 
'most  seem  's  'ough  she  would." 

"Wai,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  "the'  is  a  diffence 
'twixt  men  folkses  haousekeepiu'  an'  women  folkses, 
as  a  gen'al  thing.  Where  the'  hain't,  the  's  suthin' 
wrong  wi'  the  man  er  the  womern.  If  it 's  a  wo- 
mern  a  keepin'  haouse  like  a  man,  she  's  a  regular 
sloven,  you  may  depend  ;  an'  if  it 's  a  man  'at 
keeps  haouse  as  a  womern  ort  tu,  he  's  jest  as  sar- 
tain  ter  be  a  he  ol'  maid.  Naow  le  's  eat  a  col' 
bite  an'  then  light  up  a  fire  an'  heat  some  water, 
an'  kinder  git  the  thick  on  't  off  'in  these  'ere  dishes. 
It 's  tew  bad  Drive  ain't  here  tu  help  us." 

After  fortifying  themselves  with  cold  potatoes, 
raw  pork,  and  onions,  they  set  manfully  and  unskill- 
fully  to  the  task  of  dishwashing,  which  was  in  a 
manner  accomplished  in  the  hour  which  intervened 
before  the  return  of  their  friends. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   DUCKS   OF    LITTLE   OTTER. 

WHEN  Sam  and  Antoine  paddled  out  from  the 
landing  a  thick  film  of  fog  lay  upon  marsh  and 
channel,  undulating  in  the  almost  imperceptible 
breath  of  the  morning  breeze,  but  disclosing  the 
dun  and  green  rushes  and  glassy  water  the  canoe's 
length  away,  beyond  which  color  and  substance 
dissolved  and  vanished  in  the  pearl  gray  mist. 
Now  a  vague  form  loomed  up  in  the  marsh's  edge 
till  it  shrunk  to  the  solid  reality  of  a  muskrat 
house,  then  again  became  unreal  in  the  veil  of 
vapor.  To  the  voyagers'  eyes  there  was  nothing 
substantial  but  themselves  and  their  canoe  and  the 
little  circle  of  glassy  water  sliding  smoothly  into 
the  fog  before,  rippling  a  widening  wake  into  the 
fog  behind. 

Now  and  then  the  raucous  quack  of  dusky  ducks 
was  heard  calling  to  their  befogged  mates,  and  the 
rustle  and  splash  of  some  unseen  life  occasionally 
stirred  in  the  marsh;  but  far  or  near  there  was 
no  sound  telling  of  human  presence  save  the  tink 
ling  drip  of  the  paddles  or  the  scratching  of  a  weed 


24  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

along  the  canoe's  side,  or  a  few  whispered  words  of 
consultation. 

So  for  half  an  hour  they  drove  the  arrow  of  their 
wake  through  the  fog  till  at  a  turn  of  the  channel 
Sam  saw  the  ripple  of  another  wake  ruffling  the 
water  before  him,  and  following  it  toward  its  point 
discovered  five  dark  objects  appearing  as  if  hung 
in  the  mist.  In  two  cautious  noiseless  motions  he 
laid  down  the  paddle  and  took  up  his  gun,  then 
aimed  and  fired  just  as  the  ducks,  now  suspicious 
and  restless,  were  pivoting,  on  the  point  of  taking 
flight.  As  the  smoke  slowly  lifted  it  disclosed  two 
ducks  killed  outright  and  one  fluttering  toward  the 
marsh  with  a  broken  wing,  while  two  drove  away 
into  the  fog,  uttering  wild  quacks  of  terror.  An- 
toine  stopped  the  cripple  with  a  timely  shot,  and 
then  sent  the  canoe  forward  with  a  few  dexterous 
strokes  of  his  paddle  till  Sam  could  recover  the 
dead  birds. 

The  report  of  the  guns  was  followed  so  quickly 
by  the  roar  of  myriad  wings,  as  a  mighty  host  of 
waterfowl  uprose  from  the  marshes,  that  it  seemed 
a  part  of  the  echo  which  rebounded  from  along  the 
wooded  shores  and  far  away  among  the  distant  hills, 
and  then  for  a  few  moments  the  air  was  filled  with 
the  whistle  of  wings  as  the  disturbed  flocks  circled 
above  the  almost  invisible  intruders  or  set  forth  in 
flight  toward  the  lake. 

"  Wai,  there  !  "  said  Sam,  after  listening  till  the 


THE  DUCKS   OF  LITTLE  OTTEE.  25 

confusion  of  sounds  subsided  to  a  faint  whisper  of 
retreating  flight  and  the  splashing  flutter  of  laggards 
suddenly  alarmed  at  finding  themselves  alone,  "  I 
guess  we  started  aout  the  last  duck  in  the  hull  crik, 
an'  might  as  well  go  back  tu  camp.  The'  can't  be 
no  more,  the'  hain't  no  room  for  'em." 

"  Oh,  Ah  '11  tol'  you,  Sam,  dey  was  roos'  top  one 
'nudder,  an'  dey  ant  honly  top  one  flewed  off  yet," 
Antoine  answered  in  a  low  voice.  "  Naow  we  go 
in  de  ma'sh  for  load  off  aour  gaun." 

With  a  few  strokes  they  sent  the  canoe  her 
length  among  the  wild  rice  stalks  to  insure  greater 
steadiness  while  they  stood  up  to  reload  their 
guns.  The  sun  was  rising,  and  the  first  level  beams 
paved  a  gilded  path  and  pillared  and  spanned  it 
with  resplendent  columns  and  arches  of  mist  as  it 
lifted  and  wreathed  in  the  light  wafts  of  the  uncer 
tain  air,  and  now  through  and  beneath  the  rising 
vapor  a  stretch  of  the  channel  shone  in  a  curving 
line  of  silver,  still  barred  with  fading  ripples  of 
the  canoe's  wake.  Sam's  eyes  were  following  it  as' 
he  capped  his  gun,  when  suddenly  he  crouched 
upon  his  knees,  whispering  hurriedly  :  — 

"  Scrooch  daown,  Antwine,  th'  's  su'thin'  comin' ; 
I  'm  goin'  tu  try  'em  if  they  don't  light." 

Antoine  bent,  his  head  low  as  a  flock  of  teal 
came  stringing  down  the  channel  in  arrowy  flight, 
and  Sam,  aiming  a  little  ahead  of  the  leading  bird, 
pulled  trigger.  The  hindmost  teal  in  the  line 


26  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

slanted  downward,  and,  striking  the  water  with  a 
resounding  splash,  lay  motionless  when  the  impetus 
of  its  fall  was  spent. 

"  Wai,  if  that  don't  beat  all  iiatur',"  Sam  said 
with  a  gasp  of  surprise.  "  That  'ere  duck  was  ten 
foot  ahind  o'  the  one  I  shot  at.  What  sort  o' 
ducks  du  ye  call  'em,  Antwine  ?  " 

"  He  come  'fore  you  call  it  dis  tarn,  but  w'en  he 
ant,  you  call  heem  steal  dawk  in  Angleesh,  Ah 
b'lieved  so.  He  was  plumpy  leetle  feller,"  Antoiiie 
remarked  as  he  picked  up  the  bird,  when  Sam  had 
reloaded  and  the  canoe  was  again  in  mid-channel. 

"  An'  a  lively  breed  they  be,  tu  shoot  a-flyin'," 
Sam  commented,  as  he  examined  this  victim  of 
chance.  "  'T  ain't  110  use  a-shootin'  at  'em.  You 
got  to  shoot  'way  off  int'  the  air  ahead  on  'em,  an' 
let  'em  run  ag'in  your  shot.  Naow  be  we  goin'  tu 
poke  along  er  lay  low  for  'em  ?  " 

"  Wai,  seh,  it  bes'  was  dis  tarn  o'  day,  we  go  'long 
kan  o'  slowry.  'Long  mos'  to  evelin'  was  be  de 
bes'  tarn  for  hide  in  de  ma'sh,  w'en  de  dauk  come 
for  hees  suppy.  Naow,  you  be  ready  for  shoot  an' 
Ah  '11  paddle  de  camioe,  me." 

They  had  not  gone  far  up  the  channel  when  the 
canoe  in  its  stealthy  progress  came  close  upon  a 
dusky  duck  sitting  among  the  wild  rice,  where  she 
might  have  remained  unseen  and  unsuspected  but 
for  her  alarm.  As  she  sprang  with  a  startling 
splash  and  flutter  clear  of  the  rank  marsh  growth, 


THE  DUCKS   OF  LITTLE  OTTER.  27 

Sam  thought  to  profit  by  his  experience  with  the 
teal  and  fired  too  far  ahead  his  mark,  making  a 
clean  miss.  He  stared  at  the  escaping  duck  and 
Antoine  offered  the  consoling  comment :  "  Dat  fel 
ler  ant  run  ag'in  you  shot,  prob'ly." 

Sam  repeated  his  mistake  with  two  or  three 
more  rising  birds,  but  got  two  more  in  a  sitting 
shot  at  a  flock  of  wood  duck  discovered  in  a  nook 
of  the  marsh,  and  then  to  Antoine's  great  disgust 
easily  knocked  over  a  coot  that  stupidly  permitted 
them  to  paddle  within  short  range. 

"  Dat  feller  ant  worse  you'  paouder,  Sam.  You 
see  he  gat  mout'  mos'  lak'  hen  was,  an'  hees  foots 
some  lak'  hen,  some  lak'  dauk,  an'  he  '11  ant  t'  oddur 
t'ing  or  one.  Ah  '11  'spec'  prob'ly  it  was  hens  try 
for  be  dauk,  or  dauk  try  for  be  hens,  an'  he  '11  ant 
mek'  up  very  good.  He  mek'  some  good  fedder 
for  Zhozeff.  Hello,  Sam,  you'll  know  dis  place, 
ant  it  ?  "  he  asked  with  eager  interest  as  he  came 
to  a  narrow  tributary  channel  with  fishing  stakes 
set  on  either  side. 

"Wai,  if  it  hain't  the  East  Slang,  sure  as 
guns,"  said  Sam  in  joyful  recognition  of  their  old 
trapping  ground.  "  I  tell  ye  what,  Antwine,  we 
mus'  go  an'  take  a  look  at  aour  ol'  hum'stead," 
and  Antoine  turned  the  canoe's  prow  into  the  nar 
rower  waterway  and  followed  its  lazy  meandering 
among  the  broad  level  of  the  marsh  to  where  the 
sluggish  current  creeps  between  narrower  margins 


28  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

of  wild  rice,  rushes,  and  sedges  flanked  by  open 
fields  on  the  east  and,  at  that  time,  by  almost  un 
broken  forest  on  the  west. 

At  the  nearest  point  of  this  shore  they  found  an 
opening  to  their  old  landing  and  pushed  the  canoe 
to  a  berth  alongside  a  clumsy  dugout  which  gave 
evidence  of  recent  use  in  a  fish-pole  and  line  and 
a  basin  of  earth  in  which  a  few  angle-worms  were 
crawling  and  reaching  vainly  for  a  way  of  escape 
over  the  edges  of  rusty  tin.  A  well-worn  footpath 
led  away  through  the  bushy  border  and  under  the 
hemlocks. 

"  Prob'ly  some  more  mah  rellashin,  Ah  guess," 
said  Antoine. 

"  One  o'  your  brother-in-laws.  Mebby  we  '11  go 
an'  look  him  up  bime  by.  I  b'lieve  I  've  heard  you 
tell  o'  hevin'  one  or  tew.  But  le  's  gwup  tu  the  ol' 
shanty,"  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  familiar  spot. 

It  was  not  hard  to  find,  for  the  moss-grown  slabs 
were  lying  in  a  crushed  heap  upon  the  broken 
ridge-pole,  and  in  front  a  patch  of  ashes  filmed 
with  moss,  nourishing  fireweed  whose  silver-winged 
seeds  were  now  drifting  alee  on  the  light  breeze, 
marked  the  place  of  the  old  campfire.  Beside  it 
was  the  log  seat,  softer  than  it  used  to  be  with 
decay  and  a  cushion  of  lichens.  They  seated  them 
selves  upon  it,  looking  around  upon  the  desolation 
with  half  melancholy  interest  while  they  slowly 
filled  their  pipes. 


THE  DUCKS   OF  LITTLE  OTTER.  29 

"  It  looks  so  as  if  de  folks  was  all  dead  gre't 
many  year  'go,  an'  it  seem  so  we  was  de  folks," 
said  Antoine  ruefully.  "It  mek'  me  feel  lone- 
sick." 

"  Yes,  it  does  make  a  feller  sort  er  lunsome,  a 
mournin'  for  the  feller  that  was  himself  oncte." 

"  Dat  true  as  you  livin',  Sam.  Bah  gosh,  seh,  it 
ant  seem  if  Ah  was  me,  w'en  Ah  '11  re'mbler  dat 
leetly  boy  in  Canada  wid  hees  fader  an'  mudder, 
young  folks  dat  dance  all  naght,  an'  Ah '11  gat 
honly  one  brudder-law,  an'  de  summer  las'  mos'  all 
de  year  an'  de  winter  ant  never  too  long  'cause 
Ah  '11  happy  every  day.  Oh,  Ah  '11  ant  dat  leetly 
feller.  Den  w'en  Ah  '11  growed  big  mans  Ah  be 
naow  Ah  '11  ant  know  much  an'  can'  spik  Ang- 
leesh  more  as  frawg ;  dat  ant  de  sem'  feller  Ah 
was  naow,  for  know  much  anybody  an'  spik  jus' 
lak'  Yankee.  Den  Ah  '11  faght  in  de  Papineau 
war  more  liugly  as  dev',  naow  Ah  '11  was  peaceably 
mans,  honly  w'en  Ah  '11  was  get  mad,  den  dey  want 
for  look  aout,  everybody  but  you,  Sam.  Oh,  Ah  '11 
was  been  great  many  feller,  me." 

"  We  're  gen'ally  tew  folks  all  the  time,"  said 
Sam,  following  a  climbing  wreath  of  tobacco  smoke 
with  meditative  eyes.  "  One  is  the  feller  'at  we 
know  an'  t'  other  's  the  feller  'at  other  folks  knows, 
an'  most  on  us  is  almighty  shy  o'  showin'  the  one 
'at  we  know  tu  other  folks.  By  the  great  horn 
spoon  !  I  das  n't  hardly  look  at  my  Sam,  myself, 


30  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

he  's  got  so  many  mean  streaks  in  him.  Hello, 
there  's  aour  ol'  squirrel,  er  one  'at  looks  jus'  like 
him,  a-snickerin'  at  your  Antwine  er  my  Sam  this 
minute."  He  pointed  with  his  pipe  at  a  red 
squirrel  that  was  jerking  himself  into  a  frenzy  of 
derision  on  the  trunk  of  a  hemlock. 

The  sun  and  the  breeze  had  burned  and  blown 
the  mist  away  and  the  day  was  bright  with  the 
beauty  of  late  September,  the  clear  blue  sky,  the 
first  autumnal  tints  of  the  unthinned  foliage  bor 
dered  with  the  lesser  glory  of  woodside  goldenrod 
and  aster,  the  marshes  with  their  broad  masses  of 
bronze  and  russet  and  gold,  unbroken,  save  where 
the  scarlet  flame  of  an  outstanding  dwarfed  maple 
blazed  among  the  colder  tints,  and  the  verdure  of 
the  grass  lands,  as  green  as  in  June. 

Such  sounds  as  were  heard  were  distinctive  of 
the  season  and  some  were  conspicuously  absent. 
The  flute  of  the  hermit  and  the  bells  of  the  wood 
thrushes  were  silent.  The  booming  of  the  bittern 
and  the  chorus  of  the  frogs  no  longer  sounded 
over  the  expanse  of  marshes.  Birds  that  rejoiced 
melodiously  over  the  earth's  fresh  luxuriance  in 
June  uttered  now  only  brief  notes  of  farewell  to 
the  kindling  glory  of  her  ripeness.  Only  the  blue 
bird  sang,  and  with  a  mournful  cadence.  The 
crows  cawed  lazily,  jays  squalled  apart  or  in  united 
vociferation,  chickadees  repeated  their  own  name, 
nuthatches  piped  their  nasal  call,  woodpeckers 


1* 

THE  DUCKS   OF  LITTLE  OTTEB.  31 

hammered  with  voiceless  industry  and  never  a  rat 
tling  drum-call ;  these  and  the  squirrels  were  the 
only  tenants  of  the  woods  who  gave  audible  evi 
dence  of  their  presence. 

Across  the  fields  from  distant  farmsteads  came 
the  regular  thud  of  flails,  and  from  one  barn  the 
clatter  and  roar  of  a  new-fangled  threshing  ma 
chine  ;  and  there  was  also  the  rumble  and  clatter 
of  farm  wagons  and  the  bawling  of  plowmen, 
shouting  as  if  their  oxen  were  deaf  or  a  mile 
from  their  driver.  Piercing  through  these  larger 
sounds  there  could  be  heard  the  shrill  voice  of 
cockerels  practicing  their  yet  unlearned  challenge, 
and  the  yelping  of  wandering  flocks  of  turkeys 
harvesting  the  half  torpid  grasshoppers  and  glean 
ing  the  grain  fields. 

Every  sound  that  came  to  the  ears  of  Sam  and 
his  companion,  as  they  unconsciously  listened,  was 
as  indicative  of  the  season  as  the  visible  signs  of 
the  year's  ripening  which  met  their  abstracted  eyes. 

"  Wai,  Antwine,"  said  Sam,  arousing  himself 
and  knocking  the  ashes  of  his  pipe  upon  the  grave 
of  the  old  campfire,  "  Le  's  go  an'  see  if  you  've  got 
a  new  lot  o'  relations  settled  here,"  and  Antoine, 
nothing  loath  to  undertake  such  quest,  followed  with 
him  the  path  into  the  shadow  of  the  hemlocks. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  WAY   STATION. 

TANGLES  of  hobble  bush  sprawled  over  the 
russet  carpet  of  hemlock  leaves,  gayly  flecked  with 
variegated  rattlesnake  plantain,  overtopped  by 
yellowing  sarsaparilla ;  and  a  crowded  cluster  of 
scarlet  berries,  still  upheld  on  their  withered  stalk, 
marked  the  place  where  the  fiery  bulb  of  the  In 
dian  turnip  was  hidden.  There  were  moss-covered 
cradle-knolls  and  mouldering  trunks  of  the  old 
trees  whose  uprooting  had  formed  them,  with  trees 
already  old  growing  upon  them.  Great  mats  of 
sphagnum  were  in  the  hollows  between,  and  all 
were  the  characteristics  of  the  undisturbed  floor  of 
the  ancient  forest. 

For  all  these  Sam  had  a  keen  eye,  noting  the 
difference  of  forest  growth  here  from  that  of  his 
own  hill  country  and  speaking  of  it  to  his  compan 
ion,  but  never  of  the  beauties  of  nature,  for,  with 
the  deep  and  tender  feeling  of  the  true  lover,  he 
could  not  prate  of  the  charms  of  his  mistress  to  the 
common  ear. 

Antoine  enjoyed  them  with  an  undefined  touch 


A   WAY  STATION.  33 

of  the  same  feeling,  but  more  than  the  symmetry 
or  majesty  of  a  tree  he  saw  the  axe  helves  in  the 
hickory,  the  baskets  in  the  ash,  the  plank  in  the 
hemlock  and  pine,  and  the  medicinal  virtues  of 
the  prettiest  plant  were  more  to  him  than  its  beauty. 

Ten  minutes'  leisurely  walking  brought  them  to 
a  clearing  of  a  few  acres  where  some  young  cattle 
were  pastured.  They  left  off  grazing  on  the  ap 
proach  of  the  strangers,  whom  they  curiously  re 
garded  for  a  moment  and  then  scampered  into  the 
woods  in  a  flurry  of  alarm.  A  small  log  house 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  clearing  with  a  pole- 
fenced  garden  patch  in  front  wherein  some  cabbages 
flourished  in  the  virgin  soil  in  spite  of  poor  tending. 
A  few  beanstalks  drooped  their  frostbitten  leaves 
over  the  clattering  remnant  of  dry  pods,  and  the 
withered  cucumber  vines,  linking  together  the 
dropsical  overlooked  fruit,  showed  with  what  ram 
pant  growth  and  how  riotously  they  had  gadded 
abroad  under  the  summer  sun  and  showers. 

A  thin  wreath  of  smoke  trailed  upward  from  the 
low  chimney,  diffusing  a  pitchy,  pungent  odor  even 
to  windward  in  the  light  breeze,  and  the  merry 
notes  of  a  fiddle,  accompanied  by  the  sound  of 
jigging  feet,  came  through  the  open  door. 

"  Bah  ffosh,  de  smell  an'  de  nowse  was  kan'  o' 

O  7 

Frenchy,  don't  it  ? "  Antoine  remarked  as  they 
drew  nearer ;  but  he  started  backward  with  an 
exclamation  of  astonishment  when,  still  unperceived 


34  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

by  the  inmates,  he  cautiously  peered  in  at  the 
door.  "  Oh,  dey  was  too  da'ks  color  mos'  for  mah 
rellashin,"  he  whispered  as  he  fell  back  to  Sam's 
side,  "  Dey  was  nigger !  " 

Sam  stole  forward  and  looked  inside.  Sitting 
with  his  back  toward  the  door  was  a  lithe-figured 
and  very  black  negro,  energetically  playing  a  fiddle, 
which  divided  his  attention  with  a  taller  and  more 
strongly  built  man  of  the  same  race,  who  was  put 
ting  his  whole  soul  into  the  elaborate  execution  of 
a  jig,  occasionally  exhaling  his  breath  in  a  gusty 
puff  that  was  almost  a  deep-toned  whistle,  while 
the  fiddler  expressed  his  delight  in  the  performance 
by  frequent  squawks  of  laughter. 

Presently  the  dancer  finished  with  a  grand 
flourish  and  a  final  bump  of  his  quivering  heels, 
and  slouched  across  the  room  to  refresh  himself 
with  a  draught  of  water  from  a  pail  that  stood  in 
the  corner,  while  his  comrade  hugged  his  instrument 
under  his  arm  and  rocked  to  and  fro  in  a  spasm  of 
delighted  laughter. 

"  Oh,  ah,  oh,  Lord,"  he  gasped,  "  if  that  don't 
knock  the  spots  out  '11  all  the  dancin'  ever  I  ever 
did  see.  Oh,  oh,  yah,  yah  !  oh,  Lord !  " 

"  Wai,  yas,  honey,"  said  the  other  modestly,  as 
he  dropped  heavily  into  a  creaking  splint-bottomed 
old  chair,  "  'at 's  er  de  way  dey  wu'ks  de  heel  an' 
toe  down  in  ol'  Firginny.  Now,  I  'se  gwine  for  to 
sing  ye  dat  ar'  liT  song  ag'in,  so  's  you  can  ketch 


A   WAY  STATION.  35 

de  chime  wicl  you  wiolin,"  and  he  began  to  sing  in 
a  deep  sonorous  voice,  beating  time  with  his  palms 
upon  his  knees,  while  the  other  felt  for  the  air  with 
uncertain  touches  of  the  fiddlestrings. 

"  De  coon  fas'  'sleep  in  de  holler  ob  de  gum, 

'Whodar?     Who  dar  ?  ' 
Brer  Fox  come  a-scratchin'  'roun'  de  do'  ob  his  home, 

'  Who  dar  knockin'  at  de  do'  ?  ' 
De  coon  cock  he  eye  an'  he  listen  wid  he  ear, 

'  Who  dar  ?     Who  dar  ? 
Who  dat  a-\vantin'  ob  somebody  hyar  ? 

Who  dar  ?    Who  dar  a-kiiockin'  at  de  do'  ? ' 
'  Dat 's  me,  Brer  Coon,  so  prepar'  for  to  die, 
Who  dar  ?     Who  dar  ?  ' 

"  Coon  squirt  'bacca  juice  plum  in  he  eye, 

'  Who  dar  ?     Who  dar,  knockin'  at  de  do'  ? 
'Taters  in  de  ashes,  cawn  b'ilin'  hot, 

Who  dar  ?     Who  dar  ? 
Come  ter  yer  supper,  table  all  sot, 

Who  dar  ?     Who  dar,  knockin'  at  de  do'  ? ' 
Brer  Fox  run  blin',  smash  he  head  'g'in  de  tree, 

'Whodar?     Whodar?' 
'  Oh,  you  ain't  de  man  I  'se  wantin'  for  to  see, 

'T  ain't  me,  't  ain't  me,  knockin'  at  de  do'.' 

"  Yas,  sah,"  the  tall  negro  remarked,  when  the 
song  was  ended  and  cordially  applauded  by  his 
friend,  "  w'en  dey  is  'bout  fawty  niggahs  jes' 
a-shoutin'  dar  ar,  yer  could  jes'  set  an'  listen  at 
'em  all  night." 

Unwilling  longer  to  play  the  eavesdropper,  and 
loath  to  leave  such  entertaining  company,  Sam 
stepped  forward  and  knocked  on  the  doorpost. 


36  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

f 

"  Good-mornin',''  he  said.  "  'Scuse  me  for  in- 
terruptin',  but  me  an'  my  friend  stopped  tu  see  ',f 
we  c'ld  git  a  drink  o'  water.  This  'ere  crik  water 's 
p'isen,  I  b'lieve." 

Both  negroes  had  arisen  suddenly  when  Sam 
knocked,  the  taller  with  an  alarmed,  alert  look,  as 
if  in  quick  consideration  of  a  way  of  escape,  the 
other  with  an  abashed  yet  half-defiant  air.  The 
first  seemed  assured  of  no  evil  intention  by  a 
glance  at  the  visitor's  quiet,  good-humored  face, 
and  stepped  backward  with  a  questioning  smile  011 
his  own  no  less  good-humored  visage. 

"  Water  ?  Course  you  can  hev'  some  water. 
My  stars !  haow  you  did  scare  me,"  said  the  vio 
linist,  emphasizing  each  sentence  with  a  chuckle 
and  a  jerk  of  the  head.  "  Did  n't  s'pose  anybody 
was  in  a  mild  o'  here.  No,  sir.  An'  me  an'  my 
cousin  was  sort  o'  keepin'  house  whilst  the  ol' 
woman  an'  the  coon  's  gone.  My  brother  hain't 
been  tu  see  me  afore,  I  do'  know  the  time  when, 
an'  we  allus  hev'  to  hev'  a  little  fun  when  he  does 
come.  Oh,  I  forgot  you  wanted  some  water. 
'T  ain't  the  best  water  in  the  world,"  he  apolo 
gized,  as  he  brought  a  brimming  dipper  of  milky- 
looking  water,  "  but  it 's  some  wet." 

Sam  sipped  with  gingerly  lips,  but  found  it 
better  than  the  clearer,  weedy-tasting  creek  water, 
and  gave  it  as  cordial  approval  as  one  could  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  crystal  springs  of  the 
mountains. 


A    WAY  STATION.  37 

"  Ha'  some,  Antwine  ?  It 's  pooty  good  water 
fer  the  time  o'  year,"  but  Antoine  would  not  be 
prevailed  on  to  help  him  with  this  excuse  for  their 
call. 

"This  feller  an'  me,"  Sam  explained,  indicat 
ing  his  companion  by  a  sidewise  nod,  "  come  up  the 
Slang  a  duck  huntin',  an'  he  kinder  wanted  tu  see 
the  haouse  where  he  faound  his  father,  so  we  come 
over.  He  did  n't  know  but  what  he  'd  find  some 
more  relations  here." 

"  Wai,"  said  the  negro,  chuckling  as  he  cast  a 
quick  quizzical  glance  at  Antoine,  and  jerking  his 
head  emphatically,  "  he  is  kind  o'  dark  complected, 
but  he  don't  look  like  any  o'  aour  folks  'at  I  re 
member.  I  don't  claim  no  relationship,  but  mebby 
he  does." 

"  Oh  sa-cree,  cochon  noir !  "  Antoine  growled 
explosively. 

"  The'  hain't  nothin'  stuck  up  'baout  me,  an'  if 
he  c'n  prove  it  I  '11  own  it,"  continued  the  negro, 
giving  no  evidence  if  he  comprehended  that  he  was 
called  a  holy  black  pig. 

Another  person  now  quietly  appeared  at  the 
door,  a  placid-faced  middle-aged  man  in  red  flan 
nel  shirt-sleeves  that  contrasted  oddly  with  his 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  sober-hued  waistcoat  of 
unmistakable  Quaker  cut.  His  sudden  appearance 
did  not  seem  to  surprise  the  negroes,  whom  he 
accosted  pleasantly,  while  he  saluted  Sam  and  his 


38  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

companion  with  more  reserve,  regarding  them  with 
some  wonder. 

"  Well,  James,"  he  said  to  the  master  of  the 
house,  "  so  thee  's  got  company,  has  thee  ?  And 
who  might  thy  friends  be  ?  " 

"That's  more'n  I  c'n  tell  ye,  Mr.  Bartlett. 
Only  one  on  em  's  arter  a  drink  o'  water  an' 
t'  other  's  lookin'  for  his  relations." 

"I  guess  you  don't  remember  us,  Mr.  Bartlett," 
Sam  said,  rising  from  his  broken-backed  chair  and 
extending  his  hand  as  he  smiled  on  the  puzzled 
face  of  the  Quaker.  "  Me  an'  this  man  shantied 
on  your  land  here  one  spring,  four,  five  year  ago. 
We  was  a-trappin'  mushrat.  Peltier  Gove  come 
tu  see  us  an'  hired  aout  tu  you.  My  name  's  Sam- 
wil  Lovel,  an'  this  'ere  's  Antvvine." 

"  Why,  dear  me,  yes,"  said  Friend  Bartlett,  his 
face  brightening  with  recognition  as  he  shook  Sam's 
hand.  "  I  thought  I  'd  seen  thee  somewhere.  And 
this  man  too.  Why,  his  father  and  mother  lived 
in  this  very  house  a  whole  year." 

"  Oh,  yas,  yas,"  cried  Antoine.  "  Ah  '11  fan'  it 
here,  an'  Ah  '11  ant  'spec'  more  Ah  '11  was  for  fin'  it 
in  mah  soup,  me.  He  live  'long  to  me  naow,  an' 
he  smaat  lak  boy,  an'  so  was  mah  mudder." 

"  That 's  clever,"  said  Friend  Bartlett,  and  then 
to  Sam,  "  And  Peltier,  how  's  he  ?  He  an'  Lowizy 
are  married,  I  s'pose." 

"  Wai,  Peltier 's  abaout  so,"  Sam  answered 
soberly,  "but  he  hain't  merried.  Lowizy  's  dead." 


A    WAY  STATION.  39 

"  Thee  don't  say.  Wai,  that 's  sad,  to  be  sure," 
Friend  Bartlett  said  in  a  grieved  voice.  "  Poor 
child,  poor  child.  It  will  grieve  my  wife  to  hear 
it,  for  she  set  great  store  by  Lowizy.  And  Peltier 
was  a  stiddy,  clever  young  man,  poor  boy.  He 
must  be  greatly  cast  down." 

After  some  further  conversation  with  Sam  he 
turned  to  the  negroes  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the 
fiddle.  "  Well,  James,  thee  has  been  entertaining 
thy  visitors  with  music,  has  thee  ?  "  He  bent  over 
the  instrument  curiously  and  touched  the  strings 
with  one  cautious  finger,  withdrawing  it  with  a 
start  and  an  abashed  face  as  they  gave  forth  a 
resonant  chord.  "  Well,  it 's  rather  a  pleasant 
sound  to  worldly  ears,  I  dare  say,"  he  remarked, 
and  then  in  a  low  voice  to  the  man  whom  he  called 
James,  but  who  was  Jim  to  the  world's  people, 
"  thee  should  be  careful  about  attracting  strangers 
to  thy  house,  James,  while  Robert  is  with  thee." 

"  I  had  n't  no  idee  the'  was  a  livin'  soul  within 
a  mild  o'  here,  Mr.  Bartlett ;  no,  sir,  I  had  n't," 
Jim  protested,  with  many  an  emphatic  jerk  of  the 
head.  "  They  popped  right  on  tu  us  as  if  they'd 
riz  right  aout  o'  the  airth.  I  hain't  none  afeared 
o'  the  tall  feller,  but  I  do'  know  'bout  that  gabbin' 
Frenchman,"  and  he  cast  a  suspicious  glance  at 
Antoine,  who,  unconscious  of  unfriendly  scrutiny, 
was  leisurely  whittling  a  charge  of  tobacco  for  the 
waiting  pipe  between  his  teeth. 


40  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  I  come  down  to  fix  up  the  fence  a  little  and 
look  at  the  young  cattle,"  Friend  Bartlett  explained 
to  the  company,  as  he  went  to  the  door  and  picked 
up  his  axe  which  he  had  set  down  there. 

"  Friend  Samwel,  I  'd  like  to  speak  with  thee  a 
little  about  Peltier,"  hesitating  over  the  untruth  of 
the  pretext.  "  I  feel  clear  to  trust  thee,"  he  said 
in  a  guarded  voice  when  Sam  had  followed  him 
apart  to  a  comfortable  leaning  place  on  the  fence, 
"  but  I  ain't  quite  so  clear  in  my  mind  about  thy 
companion."  He  paused  a  little,  abstractedly 
hewing  the  withered  leaves  off  a  sunflower  stalk. 
"  The  fact  is,  that  tall  colored  man  is  a  fugitive 
from  slavery,  and  might  be  in  danger  if  some  folks 
knew  he  was  here." 

"  I  'spected  where  the  critter  come  from,"  said 
Sam,  "  but  ye  need  n't  be  afeared  o'  me  tellin'  on 
him,  Mr.  Bartlett,  an'  I  don't  b'lieve  Antwiiie 
would  either,  not  tu  mean  no  harm.  All  'at  ails 
him  is  he  's  tew  full  o'  his  gab." 

"  Well,  Samwel,  thee  must  caution  him.  It 
would  be  sad  if  anything  should  happen  to  hinder 
this  poor  man's  getting  to  Canada." 

"  I  guess  the'  hain't  110  danger  o'  that,  Mr. 
Bartlett." 

"  More  than  thee  thinks,  perhaps."  Friend 
Bartlett  glanced  cautiously  toward  the  house  before 
he  added,  "  I  feel  free  to  tell  thee  that  strangers 
have  been  seen  not  many  miles  off  that  we  mistrust 
are  looking  for  him." 


A    WAY  STATION.  41 

"  Du  you  b'lieve  it  ? "  Sam  asked  in  surprise. 
The  Quaker  nodded.  "  Wai,"  Sam  drawled  out, 
"  I  rutlier  guess  they  won't  ketch  none  o'  their 
stray  black  sheep  up  this  way  —  not  if  I  c'n  help 
it." 

"  Thank  thee,  Samwel ;  but  I  think  if  nobody 
lets  out  the  secret  they  won't  be  apt  to  discover 
his  hiding-place.  Try  to  keep  thy  companion's 
tongue  bridled  for  a  few  days.  Now,  I  won't  hin 
der  thee  any  longer,"  and  the  Quaker  moved  slowly 
toward  the  house. 

"  Come,  Antwine,"  Sam  called,  "  le  's  be  a-mog- 
gin',"  and  Antoine  coining  forth,  the  two  began  to 
retrace  their  way  to  the  landing. 

"  Farewell,"  Friend  Bartlett  called  after  them, 
"  thee  tell  Peltier  what  I  told  thee  and  remember 
me  in  kindness  to  him,  will  thee  ?  " 


CHAPTER  VI. 

VISITORS   IN   CAMP. 

AT  the  edge  of  the  woods  Sam  turned  and  took 
a  careful  observation  of  the  clearing. 

"  I  s'pose  the 's  a  landin'  daown  there  on  the  crik 
'baout  as  nigh  as  the  one  on  the  Slang,  hain't 
the'  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Wai,  Ah  do'  know,  prob'ly.  Yas,  Ah  guess 
yas.  What  you  wan'  know,  hein  ?  "  Antoine  an 
swered  and  asked. 

"  Oh,  nothin',  on'y  I  was  a-thinkin'  if  the  canew 
was  there  we  c'ld  git  tu  camp  quicker.  My 
stomerk's  cryin'  cupberd  if  that  feller's  water  is 
victuals  an'  drink.  Haow  is 't  wi'  your  'n,  An- 
twine?  You  hain't  lied  even  water  tu  stay  it." 

"  Bah  gosh !  "  cried  the  Canadian  with  hungry 
zest,  "  Ah  '11  can  heat  one  of  dat  dauk  raw  an' 
hees  fedder." 

"  That  'ould  hurt  Joe's  feelin's  ;  he  wants  all  the 
feathers  for  a  peace  offerin'  tu  M'ri,"  said  Sam, 
lengthening  his  strides  till  a  glimpse  of  the  open 
sky  beyond  the  landing  was  seen,  when  he  slack 
ened  his  pace  and  peered  cautiously  out  upon  the 
open  marsh. 


VISITORS  IN  CAMP.  43 

"  Hsssh,"  he  whispered,  drawing  back  and  slowly 
sinking  upon  his  haunches,  "  the  's  a  hull  snag  o' 
ducks  a  squddlin'  raound  not  four  rod  fin  the 
canew.  We  c'n  crawl  up  an'  git  a  crack  at  'em." 

Crawling  side  by  side,  they  wormed  their  way 
within  short  range  of  at  least  a  dozen  wood  ducks 
that  were  swimming,  diving,  and  bickering  over 
choice  morsels  in  the  narrow  pathway  of  water  that 
made  from  the  channel  to  the  landing.  Then  tak 
ing  deliberate  aim  at  the  thick  of  the  flock,  they 
fired  at  the  word  given  by  Sam.  Above  the  rolling 
cloud  of  smoke  they  saw  but  five  terrified  survivors 
scurrying  away  in  scattered  flight,  and  beneath  it 
when  it  lifted  seven  dead  and  wounded  unto  death, 
all  of  which  they  speedily  secured,  even  to  one 
poor  cripple  that  skulked  among  the  weeds  and 
was  mercifully  dispatched  by  a  stroke  of  a  paddle. 

"There,  Antwine,"  said  Sam,  as  the  canoe  floated 
out  upon  the  channel,  "  you  set  for'ad ;  I  done  all 
the  shootin'  I  want  tu." 

Thus  disposed,  they  paddled  down  the  Slang. 
As  they  passed  the  trim  newly  built  muskrat  houses, 
almost  every  one  of  them  had  a  tally  stick  stuck 
beside  it  marked  rather  conspicuously  by  a  bit  of 
birch  bark  inserted  in  a  cleft  at  the  top. 

"  Dat  was  Injin  fashi'n,"  Antoine  commented, 
"  an'  Ah  bet  you  head  dere  was  some  of  it  trappin' 
raoun'  here." 

"  Jest  their  shifflin'  way,  ketchin'  lots  o'  half- 


44  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

growed  ones.  But  the'  's  plenty  o'  white  folks  'at 's 
jest  as  bad.  I  wonder  where  the  creatur's  is 
campin'.  I  sh'd  like  tu  run  on  tu  'em." 

"  Oh,  Sam,  you  '11  want  great  many  t'ing,  ant 
it  ?  You  '11  fan'  two  nigger  an'  one  Quakers  to-day 
already,  an'  naow  you  '11  want  Injin.  Say,  Sam, 
what  kan  o'  nigger  you  call  dat  beeg  one,  hein  ?  " 

"  I  do'  know  's  anything  more  'n  a  tol'lable  black 
one.  Why  ?  " 

"Wai,  seh,  he'll  gat  cliff 'nt  of  aour  kan'  o' 
nigger.  He  '11  ant  spick  Angleesh  sem'  lak'  you 
was  an'  me  an'  dat  odder  nigger.  Oh,  Ah  tol' 
you,  Sam,"  he  said  impressively,  and  looking  over 
his  shoulder  at  his  companion,  "  Ah  '11  b'lieved  he 
was  slave  runaways  nigger  from  Souse  'Mericay." 

"  Sho',  Antwiiie,  you  du  git  cur'u's  ideas  int' 
your  noddle." 

"Wai,  Ah '11  b'lieved  dat,  me,"  said  Antoine 
decidedly. 

"  Wai,  s'posin'  he  is,"  said  Sam  carelessly,  "  let 
him  run  ;  I  shan't  stop  him." 

"  Prob'ly  de  mans  dat  hown  it  was  willin'  for 
give  feefteen,  prob'ly  twanty-fav'  dollar.  Haow 
many  you  s'pose,  prob'ly  ?  " 

"  I  s'pose,"  said  Sam  with  impressive  earnest 
ness,  "if  a  man  was  mean  'nough  tu  du  sech  a 
sneakin'  job  he  'd  ortu  be  sunk  in  this  'ere  crik, 
an'  I  cal'late  that 's  as  mis'able  a  death  as  a  fellow 
could  die.  If  you  want  tu  keep  friends  wi'  me, 


VISITORS  IN   CAMP.  45 

Antwine,  don't  you  tell  nob'dy  'at  we  seen  secli  a 
man  —  not  nob'dy." 

"  No,  no  —  no,  Ah  '11  won't  tol'  mah  waf ',  no, 
sah;"  adding  after  some  reflection,  "honly  One' 
Lasha  an'  Zhozeff,  prob'ly." 

"  Wai,  if  you  must  tell  someb'dy  er  bu'st,  I 
s'pose  they  'd  be  as  safe  as  anyb'dy.  But  don't  ye 
open  your  head  tu  no  strangers.  Naow,  remem 
ber." 

"  Dat  all  Ah  want.  But  Ah  '11  tol'  you,  Sam, 
it  mek  me  felt  kan  o'  mean  for  keep  all  Ah  '11 
know  for  mahsef." 

"  Hoi'  on,"  said  Sam,  steering  the  canoe  close  to 
the  marsh  where  a  muskrat  house  stood  in  a  narrow 
environment  of  open  water,  "  there  's  a  poor  leetle 
mushrat  not  so  big  as  a  haouse  rat,  all  wopsed  up 
in  a  mess  o'  weeds  where  he  can't  draown  ner  git 
away." 

As  the  canoe  ran  alongside,  he  reached  out  and 
carefully  disengaged  the  trap  and  its  struggling 
captive  from  the  entanglement  of  marsh  weeds, 
and  after  a  brief  inspection  pressed  the  spring  till 
the  jaws  opened.  When  the  little  prisoner  found 
himself  free  he  made  off  with  scrambling  splash 
into  the  marsh  as  Sam  gave  him  a  parting  admoni 
tion. 

"  There,  you  poor  little  devil,  go  your  ways  an' 
grow  bigger.  Naow,  Antwine,  wouldn't  a  feller 
be  meaner  'n  pusley  tu  put  that  leetle  chap  back 
int'  the  trap  ag'in  ?  " 


46  UNCLE  LISUA'S   OUTING. 

"  Yas,  prob'ly,"  said  Antoine  ;  "  but  Ah  '11  ant 
spec'  de  Injiii  t'ank  you  much,  prob'ly,  ant  it  ?  " 

"  Wai,  I  wan't  ezacldy  considerin'  the  Injin's 
feelin's." 

Their  way  down  the  Slang  and  creek  was  un 
marked  by  even  an  unsuccessful  shot,  for  the  few 
ducks  they  saw  arose  too  far  out  of  range  to  tempt 
them  to  the  trial  of  the  uncertain  chance.  Now 
and  then  they  were  startled  by  the  sudden  uprising 
of  a  heron  beating  upward  with  labored  strokes  of 
his  broad  vans  in  a  long  slant  to  level  flight  over 
the  marshes,  or  the  frightened  squawk  of  a  bittern 
jerking  himself  into  the  air  and  stumbling  through 
it  on  awkward  wings  to  a  safer  retreat.  A  countless 
dusky  swarm  of  blackbirds  rose  up  from  their  busy 
feeding  among  the  rice  in  a  sudden  cloud  and  with 
a  dull  roar  of  innumerable  wings,  as  if  a  mine  had 
exploded  beneath  the  flock. 

When  they  rounded  the  last  great  bend  and 
came  in  sight  of  the  bay,  they  saw  a  large  craft 
with  a  single  square  sail  coming  in  toward  the 
mouth  of  Lewis  Creek. 

"  Hurra'  for  Canada,"  cried  Antoine  joyfully, 
after  regarding  it  intently  for  a  moment.  "  Look, 
Sam,  dat  was  Canada  boats." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Ah  '11  know  it  by  hees  sail  jes'  easy  as  you 
can  tol'  nigger  by  hees  skin.  Yankee  boat  ant 
got  square  sail  lak'  dat  more  as  he  wore  botte 


VISITORS  IN  CAMP.  47 

sauvage  or  heat  pea  soup.  Prob'ly,  he  brought 
some  salt  for  sol'  it  or  come  for  bought  some 
happle,  prob'ly,  bose  of  it,  Ah  do'  know  'f  he  ant. 
Ah  '11  gat  brudder-law  was  be  captain  for  one  of  it. 
Mebby  dat  was  be  mah  brudder-law,  mos'  likel'. 
Ah  '11  go  see  to-naght  'f  Ah  '11  ant  in  de  morny, 
me." 

"  Wai,  I  '11  go  with  ye.  It 's  turrible  interestin' 
tu  look  at  furrin  shippin',  an'  that  looks  like  an 
ol'  buster,  nigh  's  big  's  a  canawl  boat." 

"  Oh,  dey  was  beauty  boats,"  said  Antoine 
proudly.  "  Ah  '11  tol'  you,  dey  was  mek  de  water 
roar  lak'  One'  Lasha  w'en  he  sleep." 

Presently  they  were  at  the  landing  among  the 
willows  under  the  bluff,  a  place  made  familiar  to 
them  in  their  summer  fishing  trip  of  a  previous 
year.  Thence,  laden  with  guns  and  game,  they 
climbed  the  steep  to  the  camp,  where  they  were 
loudly  welcomed  by  Uncle  Lisha  and  Joseph,  who 
generously  congratulated  them  on  their  success, 
though  it  abated  the  pride  of  their  own  achieve 
ments. 

"  Wai  done,  boys."  Uncle  Lisha  slowly  counted 
the  ducks,  carefully  inspecting  and  observing  each 
and  inquiring  its  kind.  "  You  did  du  fust  rate, 
sartain.  But  what  sort  o'  critter's  this  'ere?  "  he 
asked,  picking  up  the  coot  and  minutely  examining 
it.  "  Ann  Twine,  hev  you  be'n  a-robbin'  someb'dy 
er  nuther's  henrwust  ?  " 


48  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

"  No,  One'  Lasha,"  said  the  Canadian,  one  hand 
busy  with  the  potato  kettle  and  frying-pan,  while 
from  the  other  he  snatched  hasty  mouthfuls  of 
bread  to  appease  the  cravings  of  his  fasting  stom 
ach,  "dat  was  you  good  boy  Sam,  an'  Ah '11  tol'  it 
he  don't  ought  for  do  so  weeked.  But  he  want  for 
pracsit  for  shoot,  so  he  '11  shot  de  folkses  hen. 
What  you  t'ink  for  dat,  hein  ?  " 

"  No,  't  ain't  a  hen  nuther,"  the  old  man  decided, 
"  but  it  looks  more  like  one  'an  some  o'  these  'ere 
patent  new-fashion  Chinee  faowls  does.  Clapham  's 
got  a  rwuster  'at  come  f'm  Boston  'at  he  calls  a 
High-shang  er  hang-shy  er  some  sech  a  name,  'at 
don't  look  no  more  like  a  civilized  barndoor  faowl 
'an  you  du,  Ann  Twine,  an'  when  he  does  what 
Clapham  calls  crowin',  it  scares  child'en.  I  never 
heard  sech  a'  on'arthly  yollopin'." 

"Wai,  One'  Lasha,  dis  t'ing  was  kan'  o'  fool 
dauk.  Dat  hees  nem  of  it.  We  jus'  brought  it 
home  for  de  fedders  for  Zhozeff." 

"  Wai,  me  and  Jozeff  lies  picked  'em  all  off  'm 
them  leetle  baby  ducks  'at  we  got,  an'  don't  you 
b'lieve  both  on  ye  'at  he  was  so  savin'  'at  he  pulled 
the  pin-feathers  aout  with  his  teeth,  an'  we  got 
pooty  nigh  a  piller  case  full,  an'  the  ducks  is  dressed, 
complete.  Haow  be  ye  goin'  tu  cook  'em,  Ann 
Twine  ?  Rwust  'em,  er  bile  'em,  er  fry  'em  ?  I  'm 
kinder  hankerin'  for  some  hot  victuals." 

"  Wai,  Ah  '11  b'lieve  Ah  '11  goin'  for  fry  it,  for 


VISITORS  IN  CAMP.  49 

be  quickes'  way  for  our  hongry,"  said  Antoine, 
laying  the  split  teal  in  the  frying-pan  with  a  gen 
erous  lump  of  Danvis  butter  from  the  Lovel  dairy. 
"  Come,  Sam,  ponch  de  fire.  Zhozeff,  pull  up  you 
stump  an'  chaup  off  some  hwood.  Hoorah." 

The  fire  was  properly  replenished,  the  potatoes 
boiled  merrily,  the  frying-pan  screeched,  and  An 
toine  pranced  around  them  fully  impressed  with  the 
importance  of  his  office,  while  the  others  sat  on  the 
fireside  log  hungrily  watching  him  with  their  backs 
to  the  world. 

"  I  do'  know  as  ary  one  on  us  told  ye  'at  we  lied 
comp'ny  whilst  you  was  gone,"  Joseph  said.  An 
toine  held  an  attentive  ear  above  the  crackling  of 
the  fire  and  the  turmoil  of  cookery,  upon  which  he 
kept  his  intent  eyes,  shielded  by  one  protecting 
hand,  while  the  other,  armed  with  a  fork,  urged 
the  process  of  cooking  with  frequent  prods  and 
shakes  of  the  contents  of  the  pan. 

"  Wai,  sorter  comp'ny  er  vis'ters  er  callers, 
mebby  you  might  call  'em.  Tew  fellers  they  was 
'at  come  a-saunderiii'  up  an'  sod  daown  an'  smoked 
a  spell  an'  peared  turrible  sociable.  Hed  guns, 
they  did,  kinder  huntin',  but  was  inquirin'  if  the' 
was  colored  man  livin'  anywher's  raound  here,  o' 
the  name  o'  Jeems  suthin'  er  nuther.  What  was 
't,  Uncle  Lisha?" 

"  I  do'  know,"  Uncle  Lisha  replied,  "  I  tol'  'em 
'at  we  hedn't  had  tune  tu  git  'quainted  wi'  the 
white  folks,  let  alone  the  niggers." 


50  UNCLE  LISUA'S   OUTING. 

"  Color'  man,"  cried  Antoine,  lifting  his  voice 
above  the  roar  and  crackle  of  the  fire,  the  wallop 
ing  of  the  pot  and  the  sizzle  of  the  pan,  and  mak 
ing  it  very  audible  though  his  back  was  turned  to 
his  hearers.  "Bah  gosh,  me  an'  Sam  was  visit 
some  black  color'  mans  an'  hear  of  some  red  color' 
mans.  An',  seh,  de  black  color'  mans  leeve  raght 
over  dere  behin'  de  hwood,  pooty  clos'  neighbor  of 
us,  seh.  He  gat  for  stay  wid  heem  one  slave  nig 
ger  dat  was  run  'way  wid  hese'f  all  de  ways  from 
Sous  'Meriky,  an'  oh,  he  would  dance  you  never  see 
to  beat  it  w'en  t'udder  nigger  was  fi'le  more  better 
as  dat  leetly  humpy  Palmer  feller.  An'  dat  beeg 
slave  run'way  nigger  was  sing  jus'  lak'  black 
yallerbird,  sem  as  de  gros  riche  lady  gat  in  leetly 
wire  coop.  Oh,  Ah  '11  tol'  you  'f  Ah  '11  hown  dat 
nigger,  Ah  11  ant  took  more  's  feety  dollar  for  it, 
no,  seh." 

As  Antoine  ceased,  Joseph  slowly  turned  in  his 
seat  to  reach  a  stick  of  wood  and  was  confronted 
by  two  men  standing  close  behind  the  unconscious 
group. 

"  Sam  Hill !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  Here  they  be 
naow  !  Where  in  tunket  did  you  come  from? 
Dumbed  if  you  did  n't  skeer  me,  anyway  !  " 

The  other  members  of  the  camp  household  were 
as  much  surprised  as  Joseph,  but  Sam  was  most 
disturbed,  for  he  felt  almost  certain  that  much  of 
Antoine's  disclosures  must  have  been  overheard  by 


VISITORS  IN  CAMP.  51 

the  intruders,  whom  he  suspected  were  hunting 
larger  game  than  ducks. 

"  Beg  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  one  of  the  new 
comers,  a  brisk,  wiry  little  man  with  a  sharp  face 
and  a  business-like,  official  air.  "  Don't  wanter 
intrude,  but  we  'd  jes'  like  to  light  aour  pipes  't 
your  fire.  Can't  scare  up  a  match  betwixt  us. 
Got  a  flint  an'  steel,  but  lost  aour  punk,"  and  with 
out  waiting  for  permission  he  stepped  to  the  fire 
and  thrust  a  dry  twig  of  cedar  into  it,  wherewith 
when  ablaze  he  lit  his  pipe  and  then  offered  it  to 
his  companion,  a  tall,  sallow  man  all  of  whose  move 
ments  were  deliberate  if  not  indolent,  except  those 
of  his  restless,  searching  eyes. 

"  Here,  Clark,  light  up.  This  'ere 's  better  'n 
punk  or  a  match." 

But  Clark  had  just  begun  to  whittle  a  charge 
from  a  huge  plug  of  peculiar  light-colored  tobacco, 
very  different,  as  Sam  noticed,  from  the  black  nail 
rod  and  twist  to  which  he  was  accustomed,  and  he 
also  noticed  that  the  stranger's  pronunciation  of 
the  few  words  he  spoke  bore  a  marked  similitude 
to  that  of  Jim's  guest.  When  he  had  generously 
offered  his  "  raal  ol'  Firginny  leaf "  to  each  and 
lighted  his  own  pipeful,  so  fragrant  that  those  who 
refused  regretted  having  done  so,  the  visitors 
seemed  in  a  hurry  to  go,  but  he  who  was  the 
spokesman  returned,  after  they  had  gone  a  little 
way,  to  ask  in  Yankee  fashion  for  the  loan  of  the 
scow. 


52  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

"  I  s'poso  you  could  n't  let  us  take  you  scaow 
boat  a  spell  to  go  aout  an'  see  'f  we  could  n't  git 
tew  three  ducks,  could  ye  ?  We  hate  to  go  hum 
'thaout  a  feather.  They'll  make  fun  on  us  so. 
We  can't  git  a  thing  huntin'  'long  the  shore." 

Sam  shook  his  head.  "  I  'in  turrible  sorry,  but 
we  got  tu  use  aour  boat  jest  as  soon  as  we  git  some 
grub." 

"  We  'd  fetch  it  back  in  a  couple  o'  hours," 
urged  the  man  whom  his  comrade  called  Baker. 
"  Guess  you  c'n  let  us  have  it  as  long  as  that,  can't 
you?" 

"  No,  got  tu  use  it  right  off,"  said  Sam.  "  Come, 
Antwine,  hain't  ye  got  the  victuals  'most  ready  ? 
We  want  tu  be  off  tu  rights." 

Reluctantly  relinquishing  the  design  of  borrow 
ing  the  boat,  Baker  and  his  comrade  hurried  away 
up  the  bank  of  the  creek.  Sam  watched  them 
with  unfriendly  eyes  till  they  disappeared  among 
the  trees  beyond  the  landing,  saying  to  himself  as 
much  as  to  his  companions :  — 

"  Consarn  'em !  They  won't  git  no  boat  o'  aourn 
tu  hunt  niggers." 

Uncle  Lisha  and  Joseph  stared  at  him  in  puzzled 
inquiry,  and  Antoine,  with  an  abashed  face,  de 
voted  himself  to  his  cookery. 

"  What  is  't,  Samwil  ?  "  the  old  shoemaker  asked 
at  last.  "  I  can't  make  head  nor  tail  on  't." 

"  Why,  you  know  what  they  ast  you,  an'  you 


VISITORS  IN  CAMP.  53 

heard  what  Antwine  said  'baout  the  darkies  an'  so 
did  they,  a-sneaking  up  behind  of  us  at  just  that 
onlucky  minute  ;  heard  all  they  wanted  tu  er  they  'd 
ha'  ast  me  some  questions.  They  're  arter  that 
'ere  runaway  chap,  an'  I  don't  cal'late  we  're  a-goin' 
tu  help  'em  much,  be  we  ?  " 

Uncle  Lisha  snorted  a  contemptuous  negative, 
and  Joseph  Hill  said  :  — 

"  It  don't  seem  's  'ough  that  was  what  we  come 
here  for,  not  ezac'ly." 

"  Prob'ly  Ah  '11  s'pose,  Sam,  you  blem  me  all  up, 
but  Ah  tol'  you,  sell,  Ah  '11  ant  to  blem.  Ah  '11 
ant  s'pose  dere  was  anybody  but  wese'f  goin'  for 
heard  me  tol'  One'  Lasha  an'  Zhozeff  de  new,  an' 
Ah  mus'  tol'  dat,"  Aiitoine  said  in  deep  dejection, 
as  he  set  the  dinner  on  the  table  and  the  hungry 
crew  gathered  about  it. 

"  Oh,  I  do'  know  's  I  blame  you  none.  The' 
hain't  no  use  in  cryin'  over  spilt  milk,  an'  we  '11 
jest  tend  tu  aour  business  an'  let  other  folks  tend 
tu  their  'n,  if  it  hain't  the  pootiest  'at  ever  was. 
Say,"  he  continued,  as  if  dismissing  the  subject, 
"  when  we  git  done  eatin'  le  's  take  the  scaow  boat 
an'  all  go  over  an'  see  that  'ere  boat  f'm  Canady." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   CANADA   BOAT. 

WHEN  the  dinner  of  one  course  was  finished,  the 
simple  service  of  iron  and  tinware  was  left  un 
washed  without  fear  of  disparaging  feminine  com 
ment,  and  the  voyagers  embarked,  Sam  and  An- 
toine  at  the  oars,  Uncle  Lisha  steering  with  a 
paddle,  and  Joseph  as  passenger  and  general  ob 
server.  In  these  capacities  he  took  his  ease  so  far 
as  he  could  with  a  hand  on  either  gunwale  and 
hitching  from  side  to  side  at  every  slight  lurch  of 
the  stanch  craft.  This  he  continued  to  do  after 
the  black  depths  of  the  creek  were  passed  and  they 
voyaged  across  the  shallow  head  of  the  bay,  where 
the  oars  grated  on  the  sandy  bottom  and  the  golden 
mesh  of  reflected  sunshine  twisted  and  tangled  its 
elusive  threads  among  the  caddis  worms  and  mus 
sels,  a  half  arm's-length  beneath  the  rippled  sur 
face.  One  of  the  rowers  leaned  over  the  side  to 
watch  a  shoal  of  minnows,  and  slightly  careened 
the  boat,  when  Joseph  frantically  pulled  on  that 
gunwale  and  hitched  toward  the  other  side. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas !     I  du  b'lieve  if  you  was 


THE  CANADA  BOAT.  55 

sot  in  the  middle  of  a'  islan'  you  'd  be  af eared  o' 
tippin'  over,  Jozeff.  Du,  for  massy  sake,  set  still, 
erless  lay  daown  in  the  bottom." 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  Uncle  Lisher,"  and  Joseph  let 
out  a  long-held  breath,  "  sech  a  mess  o'  water 
makes  me  kinder  skeery.  I  do'  know  as  it 's 
skeery  ezactly,  but  kinder  narvous.  I  don't  seem 
tu  hev  no  use  for  no  more  water  'n  what  I  wanter 
drink  an'  wash  me  in,  an'  that  hain't  sech  a  turrible 
sight.  But  it  does  look  dreffle  neat,"  and  his  eye 
dwelt  with  satisfaction  on  reflections  of  the  painted 
shores  flickering  downward  on  the  rippled  lake  like 
many  colored  inverted  flames  blazing  into  a  nether 
sky. 

Over  among  the  red  maples  of  Lewis  Creek 
could  be  seen  the  naked  mast  of  the  Canadian 
craft,  its  gay  pennon  lost  in .  the  brilliant  foliage 
that  it  flaunted  against.  But  the  incessant  gabble 
of  the  crew  and  their  snatches  of  French  songs 
would  have  guided  our  voyagers  to  the  vessel  with 
out  any  visible  indication  of  its  whereabouts,  and 
following  it  up  the  stream  a  little  way  beyond  its 
last  bend,  they  came  to  the  boat  at  its  moorings. 

The  jolly  little  captain  was  very  polite,  and  wel 
comed  them  as  possible  apple  sellers  in  English 
quite  as  good  as  Antoine's,  if  somewhat  different 
from  it,  having  evidently  been  drawn  from  a  well 
not  entirely  undefiled  with  h's. 

"  Mek   youse'f  welcome,  mah  frien',"  he  cried, 


56  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

with  his  shoulders  lifted  to  his  ears  and  his  palms 
hospitably  spread.  "  Go  hall  hover  mah  boats.  He 
was  you  boats,  han'  'e  was  good  boats,  hif  Hah  say 
hit  mahse'f.  Oh,  'e  good  sloops.  Han'  if  you  gat 
happle  for  sol'  Hah  ready  for  bought  she  han'  paid 
you  ten  cen'  pour  baskeet  'f  she  was  mos'  hall  red 
happle,  han'  medjy  him  mah  baskeet,  hant'  ol' 
more  as  t'ree  peck,"  and  he  gave  a  contemptuous 
kick  to  a  basket  which  could  hold  at  least  a  bushel 
and  a  half. 

The  visitors  gave  the  odd-looking  and  not  very 
cleanly  craft  as  complete  inspection  and  as  unstinted 
praise  as  would  satisfy  their  curiosity  and  her 
captain's  pride,  smothering  themselves  in  the  garlic- 
reeking  cabin  as  long  as  they  could  hold  their 
breath  and  then  stumbling  forth  into  the  fresh 
outer  air. 

"  I  hain't  got  no  apples  tu  sell  myself,"  said 
Sam  to  the  little  captain,  "  but  I  do'  know  but 
what  I  c'ld  send  you  a  man  'at  has.  Come  aout 
this  way  a  minute,  won't  ye?  Say,  captain,"  he 
continued  when  they  had  got  beyond  the  hearing  of 
the  others,  "  haow  long  afore  you  're  a-goin'  back 
to  Canady  ?  "  Sam  picked  up  a  stick  and  began 
whittling  it,  wherefrom  the  shrewd  Canadian,  hav 
ing  had  some  experience  of  Yankees,  augured  that 
a  trade  was  impending. 

"  Wai,  Hah  don't  mos'  know,  me.  Mos'  likel' 
Hah  go  day  hafter  iiex'  day  hif  de  peop'  brought 


THE  CANADA  BOAT.  57 

dey  liapple.  But,"  he  continued,  curiously  watch 
ing  the  shavings  curl  slowly  away  from  the  keen 
knife,  "  hif  you  can  sen'  it  me  some  very  good  red 
happle,  Hah  could  waits  hanodder  one  day." 

"  No,  guess  I  don't  want  tu  keep  you  waitin','' 
said  Sam.  "  Be  you  goiii'  stret  hum  ?  Goin'  tu 
stop  anywhere  on  the  way  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no,  no,  no,  bien  no.  Hah  han'  goin'  let 
mah  happle  rot  'fore  Hah  cood  sol'  she.  Hah  go 
fas'  Hah  cood." 

"  S'pose  you  c'ld  take  'long  a  passenger  tollable 
cheap  ?  " 

"  Wai,  seh,  mah  fren',"  said  the  captain  after 
some  consideration  of  the  proposal,  "  hif  de  mans 
was  clever  for  behave  hese'f,  han'  paid  me  one 
dollah  'fore  'e  go,  Hah  will  took  it,  me,  han'  dat 
was  more  sheaps  'e  can  go  hin  stimboat,  yas,  bah 
t'under !  yas,  more  sheaps  'e  can  go  'foots." 

"  Yes,  if  you  feed  him,  that 's  reasonable  'nough," 
Sam  assented. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,"  cried  the  captain,  "  for  dat  'e 
mus'  heat  'ese'f.  Hif  Hah  heat  'im,  Hah  mus' 
hask  more  as  dat." 

"  Wai,  then,  we  '11  hev  him  eat  himself,"  Sam 
agreed  with  a  chuckle.  "  I  sh'd  wanter  be  tollable 
well  paid  myself  if  I  'd  got  tu  eat  him.  All  right, 
captain,  I  guess  he  '11  be  here  'baout  the  time  you 
start,"  and  having  concluded  the  negotiation  he 
threw  away  the  neatly  whittled  stick  and  pocketed 
his  knife. 


58  UNCLE  LISHA  S  OUTING. 

"  Mos'  likul  your  frien'  was  be  goin'  on  Canada 
for  'ees  'ealthy,"  said  the  captain,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  and  winking  at  Sain. 

"  He  's  a-goin'  there  tu  extend  the  ary  of  free 
dom,"  Sam  answered  with  an  imperturbable  coun 
tenance. 

"  Oh,  yas,  yas,"  and  the  little  captain  tried  to 
cover  Ms  pockmarked  visage  with  a  mask  of  pro 
found  wisdom  as  he  inwardly  phrased  the  words, 
"send  de  hary  freedom,"  and  mentally  inquired  of 
himself,  "  What  says  the  holy  tall  Bostonais  ?  " 

Sam  and  the  captain  returned  to  the  boat,  where 
Antoine  and  his  compatriots  —  who,  though  not 
old  acquaintances,  had  mutual  knowledge  of  some 
—  were  swimming  with  violent  gesticulations  in  a 
babbling  torrent  of  gossip,  on  whose  brink  Uncle 
Lisha  and  Joseph  sat  in  gaping,  wondering  silence, 
now  turning  their  puzzled  faces  upon  the  Canadians, 
now  slowly  upon  each  other.  Their  amazement 
increased  when  the  captain  also  plunged  in  and 
contributed  his  full  share  to  the  confusion  of 
tongues. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas !  "  Uncle  Lisha  gasped  in 
a  loud  whisper  to  Sam,  "  it  hain't  no  more  like 
talk  'an  a  passel  o'  hens  hevin'  a  cacklin'  bee  in 
the  mornin',  an'  I  can't  pick  nothin'  aout  on 't  on'y 
now  an'  then  a  '  wee  '  an'  a  '  sackeree.'  I  b'lieve 
the  dumbed  critters  is  jest  pertendin'  they're 
a-talkin'  an'  don't  understan'  one  'nother  no  more  'n 


THE  CANADA   BOAT.  59 

they  would  if  they  was  a-whirlin'  hoss  fiddles  at  one 
'nother." 

"  Wai,  they  'pear  tu  git  ahead  wi'  the'  vis'tin' 
some  way,"  said  Sam,  regarding  the  animated 
group  with  an  amused  smile. 

"  I  do'  know  fer  sartain,"  Joseph  remarked, 
after  deliberate  consideration,  "  but  I  kinder  cal'- 
late  the  heft  o'  the  conversin'  is  done  by  signs,  an' 
the  gab  is  jest  hove  in  for  sort  o'  fillin'.  Seems  's 
'ough  that  was  the  way  on  't,  but  mebby  't  hain't." 

"  Wai,  they  beat  ten  women  tu  a  quiltin',"  said 
Uncle  Lisha,  "  an'  I  give  it  up.  Say,  Samwil,  you 
be'n  a-buyin'  the  boat?  " 

"  Wai,  no ;  on'y  a  sheer  on  't.  Cal'lated  it  'ould 
be  handy  for  Joseph  to  go  huntin'  an'  fishin'  in." 

Their  attention  was  attracted  to  a  heavily  laden 
wagon  that  came  jolting  over  the  rough  pasture, 
announcing  its  approach  with  a  rumble  and  creak 
that  began  now  to  be  heard  above  the  voices  of  the 
Canadians,  till  at  last  their  interested  attention 
was  called  to  the  fact  that  a  customer  was  arriving. 

"Wai,  if  there  hain't  a  load  of  apples  comin' 
a'ready,"  said  Sam.  "  I  guess  this  feller  sent  on 
word  ahead  'at  he  was  a-comin'.  We  '11  wait  an' 
git  a  pocketful  an'  then  be  off." 

While  the  captain  and  his  customer  were  pitting 
Canuck  and  Yankee  shrewdness  against  each  other 
in  sharp  bargaining,  Sam  and  his  comrades  tasted, 
and  selected  their  pocketsful  of  ^the  mclknvest 


60  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

and  least  sour  of  the  common  fruit,  that  but  for 
the  advent  of  the  Canada  boat  would  have  gone  to 
the  cider  mill,  and  they  then  departed.  Antoine 
went  most  reluctantly,  for  he  was  still  oppressed 
by  unspoken  words. 

As  they  fared  forth  on  their  return  voyage, 
Joseph,  slowly  withdrawing  his  lingering  gaze  from 
the  alien  craft,  remarked  :  — 

"  So  that  'ere  's  a  he  boat,  is  't  ?  "Wai,  I  swan 
I  can't  make  aout  haow  on  airth  a  feller 's  a-goin' 
tu  tell  which  f 'm  t'  other.  I  ruther  guess  'at  boats 
is  julluk  fish ;  the  he  ones  an'  the  she  ones  looks 
jest  alike  tu  the  onedicated,  or'nary  eyes ;  seems  's 
'ough  that  must  be  the  way  on  't." 

When  they  were  at  home  again  —  for  so  they  at 
once  began  to  call  their  temporary  abiding-place 
—  they  fell  to  picking  their  ducks  —  a  task  whereof 
many  hands  made  light  work  —  beguiled  by  Sam's 
and  Antoine's  relation  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
day's  incidents. 

"  Naow,"  said  Sam,  laying  apart  a  couple  of  the 
finest  ducks,  "  if  the'  hain't  no  objection,  I  b'lieve 
I  '11  take  them  'ere  up  tu  Mr.  Bartlett.  There  's 
more  'n  we  c'n  use  anyway.  Mebby  it  '11  be  kinder 
late  afore  I  git  back,  but  you  need  n't  tew,  if  it 's 
dark  fust,  on'y  jest  set  aout  the  lantern  tu  one  o' 
the  landin's."  There  being  no  demur,  he  embarked 
at  once  on  this  mission. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A    SIDE-TRACK    OF   THE    U.    G.    R.    K. 

THE  shadows  of  the  trees  that  skirted  the  west 
shore  stretched  far  across  the  marsh  and  channel 
as  Sam  drove  the  canoe  up  the  creek  with  quick, 
strong  strokes,  quite  regardless  of  the  throngs  of 
incoming  waterfowl  that  swept  past  him  or  those 
already  arrived  that  arose  from  the  marsh  on  either 
hand  and  the  open  water  before  him,  for  he  had 
left  the  temptation  of  the  gun  behind  him.  When 
he  entered  the  East  Slang  all  lesser  shadows  were 
dissolved  in  the  overwhelming  shadow  of  the  Adi- 
rondacks,  and  when  he  stepped  on  shore  at  the  old 
camp  landing  the  twilight  was  thickening  into 
gloom  in  the  woods,  through  which  he  took  the 
now  dimly-defined  path  and  hastened  toward  the 
log  house  of  the  negro. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  it,  it  was  a  dark 
blotch  in  the  clearing  against  the  faint  light  of 
the  afterglow,  with  one  spot  of  light  in  it,  where 
a  candle  shone  from  its  single  front  window.  As 
he  approached  he  heard  the  voices  and  frequent 
laughter  of  his  acquaintances  of  the  morning,  with 


62  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

the  softer  voice  of  a  woman  sometimes  breaking  in. 
He  knocked  at  the  door  and  the  voices  were  sud 
denly  hushed,  and  in  the  stillness  he  heard  the 
puff  that  blew  out  the  candle,  followed  by  excited 
whispers  and  cautious  steps  across  the  floor.  He 
knocked  again,  and  the  woman's  voice  demanded : 

"  Who 's  there  ?  " 

"  It 's  me !  Sam  Lovel !  the  man  'at  was  here 
this  mornin'.  I  want  tu  speak  tu  the  man  they 
call  James." 

There  was  more  whispering  before  Jim  asked, 
jerking  out  the  words  with  the  characteristic  ner 
vous  twitches  of  the  head  that  Sam  could  almost 
See  in  spite  of  the  intervening  door :  — 

"  What  d'  you  want  ?  Be  you  alone  ?  Can't 
you  talk  through  the  door  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  tu  holler,"  said  Sam  in  a  low 
voice,  answering  the  last  question  first.  "  It 's 
suthin'  'baout  the  man  'at  you  call  your  brother  er 
cousin.  He  wants  tu  be  makin'  himself  sca'ce 
raoun'  here.  I  'm  all  alone,  an'  you  need  n't  be 
afeard  tu  open  the  door." 

After  more  whispering  inside,  the  door  was  un 
fastened  and  cautiously  opened  far  enough  for  Jim 
to  thrust  his  head  outside  and  assure  himself  of 
Sam's  identity  and  that  he  was  alone.  Then  the 
door  was  held  wide  open  and  the  visitor  invited  to 
enter  by  a  jerk  of  the  head  and  motion  of  the  hand. 
The  door  was  closed  so  quickly  behind  Sam  that  it 


A   SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE   U.  G.  E.  E.          63 

nearly  caught  the  skirts  of  his  coat.  By  the  glim 
mer  of  light  from  the  stove  he  saw  the  lilting, 
dancing  negro  of  the  morning  transformed  into  a 
stern,  threatening  giant  confronting  him  with  an 
axe  uplifted  above  his  shoulder.  The  figure  of 
a  woman  shrank  behind  the  stove,  with  a  child, 
wide-eyed  with  fright  and  wonder,  clinging  to  her 
gown. 

"  You  need  n't  be  afeared  tu  light  your  light  an' 
see  who  I  be,"  said  Sam.  "  The'  hain't  iiob'dy 
else." 

While  Jim  relighted  the  candle  with  a  splinter 
the  others  looked  intently  at  Sam,  as  his  features 
grew  distinct  in  the  increasing  glow,  when  being 
assured  that  his  honest  face  masked  no  evil  pur 
pose,  the  tall  negro  lowered  his  axe,  and  the  woman, 
a  handsome  mulatto,  sat  down  and  took  the  child 
upon  her  knee. 

Sam  told  them  of  his  suspicion  that  the  visitors 
at  camp  were  in  search  of  Jim's  guest,  "  and  naow," 
he  said  in  conclusion,  "  the  chances  is  they  '11  be 
here  arter  you  to-morrow.  I've  laid  in  with  a 
feller  tu  take  ye  tu  Canerdy  on  his  boat,  but  he 
won't  go  afore  to-morrow  night  or  nex'  day,  an' 
you  '11  hafter  lay  low  either  in  the  woods  or  up  tu 
Mr.  Bartlett's.  I  cal'late  his  haouse  is  the  best 
place,  an'  I  come  tu  take  ye  up  there  an'  tell  him 
abaout  gittin'  on  ye  off,  an'  if  that  suits  ye  we  '11 
be  a-moggin'  soon  as  you  c'n  git  ready." 


64  UNCLE  LISILVS  OUTING. 

"  I  'se  ready,"  said  Bob,  snatching  his  hat  and 
coat  from  a  peg  on  the  log  wall  and  moving  toward 
the  door. 

"  It  don't  take  Bob  long  tu  pack  his  trunk,  no 
sir,"  Jim  said  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "  Lord,  haow 
you  did  scare  me  when  you  knocked.  Twice  in 
one  day  is  'baout  often  'iiough  to  scare  a  man  in 
one  day,  yes,  sir !  But  naow  you  're  putty  nigh 
scarin'  of  me  ag'in.  You  s'pose  them  fellers  r'ally 
was  huntin'  arter  Bob?" 

"  I  'se  ready,"  Bob  repeated  as  he  drew  a  small 
pistol  from  his  coat  pocket,  and  turning  stooped  to 
the  candle  light  to  examine  the  cap.  Replacing  it 
in  his  pocket,  he  turned  to  Sam  and  said :  — 

"  I  s'pec  's  you  're  gwine  ter  sot  me  'cross  de  run, 
Marse  Lovel?" 

"  The  run  ?  Oh,  the  Slang ;  yes,  I  was  cal'latin' 
tu,  an'  tu  go  up  tu  Mr.  Bartlett's  with  ye.  I  want 
tu  see  him.  My  canew  's  up  there  tu  the  landin'." 

"  What !  you  did  n't  never  come  clean  raound  to 
the  Slang  to-night  ?  You  might  ha'  come  right 
acrost  the  crik  no  time." 

"  I  did  n't  know  who  might  be  a-watchin',"  Sam 
answered.  "  The  longest  way  raoun'  's  the  surest. 
Come,  le'  's  be  a-moggin'." 

"  I  'se  done  b'en  ready,"  said  Bob.  "  Goo'-by, 
Nancy;  goo'-by,  little  Jimmy.  De  good  Lawd 
bress  ye  an'  ta'  keer  on  ye." 

He  shook  hands  with  the  woman  and  laid  his 


A  SIDE-TEACK  OF  THE   U.  G.  E.  E.  65 

huge  hand  on  the  child's  curly  head,  and  then 
stretched  it  out  to  Jim. 

"  Goo'-by,  Jeems,  er  is  you  gwine  'long  ?  " 

"  You  stay  along  wi'  me,  Jim,"  said  the  woman 
anxiously. 

"  I  guess  mebby  you  'd  better,"  said  Sam. 

The  two  negroes  looked  at  him  suspiciously,  and 
exchanged  questioning  glances. 

"  I  guess  I  '11  go  a  piece,"  Jim  said,  with  an 
emphatic  jerk  of  the  head. 

"All  right,  suit  yourself.  I  only  cal'lated  it 
'ould  look  better  if  anybody  come.  S'posin'  you 
put  the  light  oaut  ag'in,  so  the'  can't  nob'dy  see  us 
goin'  aout." 

Jim  blew  out  the  candle  and  the  three  went  out 
into  the  night,  now  lighted  only  by  the  stars  and 
the  flicker  of  the  northern  lights. 

They  took  their  way  across  the  clearing  at  a 
brisk  pace,  Jim  taking  the  lead  as  being  most  fa 
miliar  with  the  path,  Sam  next,  and  the  runaway 
in  the  rear.  The  latter  cast  frequent  glances  be 
hind  and  started  nervously  when  an  alarmed  bird 
fluttered  suddenly  from  a  bush,  or  some  night 
prowler  scurried  among  the  fallen  leaves  and  dry 
twigs,  while  Sam  and  Jim  held  steadily  on,  quite 
regardless  of  such  harmless  sounds.  Feeling  their 
way  more  slowly  along  the  unseen  wood  path,  they 
came  to  where  they  saw  the  stars  again,  then  saw 
them  repeated  in  the  still  water  of  the  channel,  and 


C6  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

then  were  at  the  landing.  There  was  a  soft  splash 
in  the  channel  like  the  cautious  dip  of  an  oar. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,"  Bob  gasped,  starting  back  and 
thrusting  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  "  dem  fellers  out 
dar  layin'  fo'  me.  My  Gawd,  Marse  Lovel,  you 
ain't  de  man  to  fool  a  pore  niggah  what 's  bein' 
hunted  to  de  eends  of  de  airth  !  "  and  he  tried  to 
scan  Sam's  face  in  the  dim  starlight,  but  holding 
aloof  in  a  half-crouching  attitude  that  might  be  a 
preparation  for  either  a  fight  or  a  run. 

"  I  guess  it  hain't  nothin'  but  a  mushrat  or  a 
duck,"  Sam  whispered,  looking  intently  in  the  di 
rection  of  the  sound,  "  but  mebby  Jim  lied  better 
shove  aout  there  in  his  canew  an'  see." 

Jim  pushed  his  dugout  to  the  edge  of  the  chan 
nel  and  presently  jerked  back  a  loud  disjointed 
whisper. 

"  Everything 's  all  right.  Jist  as  clear 's  a  Chris 
tian's  eye.  Yes,  sir,  jist  egzackly." 

With  this  assurance  Bob  took  his  place  in  the 
canoe  where  Sam  had  already  kneeled,  with  his 
paddle  in  his  hand,  and  he  now  pushed  out  and 
laid  his  craft  alongside  of  Jim's. 

"  I  do'  know  jest  where  I  'm  a  goin'  tu  land," 
lie  said  with  a  questioning  inflection. 

"  You  go  up  'baout  fifty  rod  an'  you  '11  come  tu 
the  John  Clark  place,  where  ol'  John  Clark  allus 
used  tu  fish.  You  can  run  right  up  to  the  hard 
bank  there.  Mr.  Bartlett's  is  the  furdest  north 


A  SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE  U.  G.  R.  R.  67 

in  that  string  o'  lights.  You  put  right  straight  for 
it  an'  you  '11  strike  a  big  holler  where  a  brook  runs, 
which  you  cross  it  an'  follow  up  the  north  bank  an' 
you  '11  hit  the  secont  road  right  by  his  haouse.  I 
guess  I  won't  go  no  f urder  an'  I  '11  bid  you  good- 
by,  Bob,  an'  good  luck  to  ye." 

"  Goo'-by,  Jeems ;  ta'  keer  yo'se'f,  boy." 

They  shook  hands  across  the  gunwales  and  the 
bark  canoe  slid  silently  up  the  channel,  breaking 
the  smooth  surface  with  wake  and  paddle  strokes 
that  set  the  mirrored  stars  a-dancing  and  startled 
the  sleeping  ducks  to  sudden,  noisy  flight.  With 
out  greater  incident  the  brief  voyage  was  made, 
and  the  two  men  set  forth  across  the  fields,  guided 
by  the  house  light  and  the  deep-cut  watercourse  to 
which  they  presently  came.  They  approached  the 
first  road  with  scarcely  a  precaution  of  secrecy,  for 
there  was  not  a  house  upon  it  nearer  than  the 
tavern  at  the  corner,  where  the  bar-room  lights 
shone  out  with  hospitable  gleam. 

They  were  beginning  to  climb  the  fence  when 
they  heard  the  sound  of  a  wagon  and  voices  in  low 
but  earnest  conversation  close  at  hand  and  drawing 
nearer.  Then  they  saw  the  intermittent  glow  of  a 
pipe,  and  as  they  sank  back  and  crouched  in  a 
weed-grown  fence  corner  they  caught  a  whiff  of  its 
odor. 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,"  Bob  whispered,  sniffing  it 
eagerly,  "  I  hain't  felt  de  smell  o'  no  terbacca  lak 
dat  sence  I  done  lef  Ol'  Firgimiy." 


68  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

Sam  laid  a  cautionary  hand  on  his  arm.  "  What 
be  they  talkin'  'baout  ?  " 

The  wagon  stopped  almost  in  front  of  them, 
and  as  its  clatter  and  the  footfalls  of  the  horse 
ceased,  the  guarded  voices  of  the  occupants  were 
distinctly  heard. 

"  I  tell  you  the  rwud  cross  lots  is  consid'able 
furder  on,"  said  one.  "  The'  hain't  no  gap  ner 
barway  here,  fer  I  c'n  see  stakes  an'  caps  tu  ev'ry 
corner." 

Sam  held  his  breath  while  he  knew  that  two 
pairs  of  eyes  were  closely  scanning  the  fence  and 
the  very  corner  where  he  crouched  beside  his  com 
panion,  whose  hand  he  could  hear  stealthily  creep 
ing  to  the  pocket  that  held  the  pistol. 

"  I  reckon  yo'  ah  right,"  the  other  occupant  of 
the  wagon  said  at  last,  and  Sam  recognized  the 
smooth  voice  of  the  quiet  visitor  at  camp ;  "  but 
'pears  like  we  'd  come  fah  enough." 

"  No,  sir,"  the  other  rejoined  emphatically, 
"  the  's  a  reg'lar  rwud  when  we  come  tu  it,  an'  it 
runs  through  a  paster.  This  'ere  's  a  medder ;  I 
can  see  a  stack  a-loomin'  up." 

"  All  right,"  the  other  conceded,  "  go  ahade  and 
hurry  up  yo'  cakes,  f  oh  I  '11  be  bound  Baker  and 
his  man  's  thah  with  the  boat  foh  now." 

The  driver  spoke  sharply  to  his  horse,  and  the 
wagon  went  rattling  down  the  road  at  a  rapid 
pace. 


A   SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE   U.  G.  E.  E.  69 

"  Wai,"  said  Sam,  rising  and  letting  out  his 
long-held  breath,  "  I  cal'late  you  stayed  to  Jim's 
'baout  as  long  as  was  healthy  for  ye." 

"  Sho  's  yo'  bawn,  Marse  Lovel !  Dat  'ar  man 
saoun'  des  lak  Cap'n  Clahk,"  Bob  whispered  ex 
citedly.  "  De  shaapes'  man  faw  huntin'  niggahs 
dey  is  in  all  dem  pahts.  Lawd,  if  I  did  n't  t'ink 
he  was  lookin'  right  squaar'  at  me." 

"  Wai,  he  hain't  a-huiitin'  on  his  own  groun', 
an'  that  makes  lots  o'  odds.  My  sakes,  won't  they 
hev  fun  a-hoofin'  on  't  raound  the  head  o'  the  Slang 
in  the  dark!  It  would  be  tew  all-killin'  bad  if 
they  should  break  the'  necks  a-tumblin'  through 
the  woods." 

When  the  two  came  to  the  broad  stage  road,  no 
one  was  astir  in  the  quiet  neighborhood,  and  leav 
ing  Bob  hidden  in  an  adjacent  fence  corner,  Sam 
went  to  Friend  Bartlett's  kitchen  door  and  knocked. 
He  heard  the  familiar  sound  of  a  pipe  rapped  on 
the  stove  hearth,  then  stockinged  feet  bumping 
across  the  floor,  and  the  door  was  opened  by  a 
shock-headed  Irishman. 

"  Good  evenin',"  said  Sam.  "  Is  Mr.  Bartlett 
tu  hum  ?  " 

"  Noa  thin,"  the  man  answered.  "  He  's  gahn 
to  the  village  bey  ant  t'  a  timperance  matin'.  It 's 
a  moral  reformed  droonkard  they  calls  him,  bes 
lacter'n'." 

"  Wai,  I  sh'ld  like  tu  see  Mis'  Bartlett,  then." 


70  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  Is  it  the  misthres  ?  Thin  it 's  herself  that 
wint  wid  him.  Divil  the  wan  o'  thim  in  it  but  the 
daughter  an'  mesilf  an'  the  gyrl." 

"  When  do  you  think  they  '11  be  back  ?  " 

"  Divil  a  know  I  know.  I  '11  hould  yez  the  price 
of  a  quart,  the  moral  reformed  crather  '11  be  afther 
blatherin'  till  nine  o'clock,  yis  tin,  be  gob,  an' 
they  '11  be  to  hear  the  last  wurrud." 

Sam's  heart  sank  at  the  poor  prospect  of  com 
municating  with  Friend  Bartlett.  "  You  was 
sayin'  suthin'  about  his  darter.  Is  she  a  growed- 
up  woman  or  a  leetle  gal  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It 's  a  fine  lump  of  a  wummun  she  is,  thin  ; 
nearly  as  big  as  the  mother,  an'  it's  herself  has 
the  1'arnin'.  She  been  to  schule  to  all  the  Nine 
Partners."  J 

"  Wai,  then,"  said  Sam,  "  I  can't  du  no  better  'n 
to  see  her  if  you  '11  ask  her  tu  step  tu  the  door  a 
minute." 

The  Irishman,  going  to  the  door  of  another 
room,  spoke  to  some  one  therein,  and  presently  a 
handsome  young  woman  came  forth.  Her  plain 
dress  wore  some  un-Quakerly  adornments,  but  her 
face  was  so  kindly  that  Sam  felt  sure  she  must  be 
in  full  sympathy  with  her  parents  in  all  benevolent 
work. 

"  Good  evenin',  Miss  Bartlett ;  I  fetched  up  a 

1  A  celebrated  Quaker  boarding-school  situated  in  the  township 
of  Nine  Partners  in  the  State  of  New  York. 


A  SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE   U.  G.  11.  E.  71 

couple  o'  ducks  tu  your  father,  an'  I  wanted  tu 
speak  tu  him  abaout  a  little  business," 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  questioning  affirmative, 
as  she  took  the  proffered  ducks.  "  Thee  may 
leave  any  message  for  father  with  me.  Why,  these 
ducks  are  very  nice,  and  I  'm  sure  he  '11  be  very 
much  obliged  to  thee.  What  is  it  thee  wants  me 
to  teU  him  ?  " 

"  It 's  a  kinder  private  business,"  said  Sam, 
looking  past  her  at  the  Irishman,  who  stood  near 
the  stove  with  an  attentive  ear  turned  toward  them. 
"  An'  if  you  'd  jest  step  aout  an'  shot  the  door  a 
minute." 

"  Michael,  won't  thee  please  take  these  ducks 
down  cellar  and  hang  them  up  ?  Are  n't  they  nice 
ones  ?  "  Margaret  Bartlett  said,  and  then  to  Sam, 
as  Michael,  taking  the  ducks  and  a  candle,  disap 
peared  in  the  cellarway,  "  Won't  thee  come  in  ?  " 

Sam  declined  and  she  stepped  out,  closing  the 
door  behind  her. 

"  You  tell  your  father,"  Sam  hastened  to  say  in 
a  low  voice,  "  'at  ther'  's  som'b'dy  arter  that  nigger 
an'  they've  faound  aout  where  he  was  hid,  so  I 
fetched  him  up  here." 

"  The  colored  man  at  James's  ?  Where  is  he  ?  " 
Margaret  asked  anxiously.  "  Thee  must  n't  let 
Michael  see  him.  Father  does  n't  think  he  can  be 
trusted  in  such  matters." 

"  No,  somehaow  paddies  hates    niggers.     I  do' 


72  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

know  why.  I  don't  hanker  arter  'em  myself,  but 
I  hain't  no  grudge  ag'in  'em.  I  did  n't  cal'late  tu 
hev  nob'dy  see  him  but  your  father,  an'  hid  him  in 
the  fence  aout  here.  But  he  can't  stay  there  all 
night,  an'  what  be  I  goin'  tu  du  with  him  ?  " 

"  Thee  must  put  him  in  the  barn,  in  the  bay  on 
the  west  side  of  the  barn  floor.  No  one  will  go 
there,  and  I  '11  tell  father  when  he  comes." 

"  All  right,  an'  you  tell  your  father  'at  I  've  laid 
in  wi'  a  Canuck  'at 's  a-buyin'  apples  tu  take  the 
nigger  tu  Canerdy  in  a  day  or  two.  Your  father  '11 
want  tu  take  daown  a  Iwud  to-morrer  an'  find  aout 
when,  an'  we  '11  git  the  nigger  there  tu  rights." 

"  I  wish  thee  would  n't  call  colored  people  nig 
gers,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Why,"  said  Sam,  "  that 's  what  he  calls  him 
self,  an'  I  rather  guess  from  his  looks  he  is  one. 
Good-night.  I  '11  mow  him  away  all  right." 

Groping  his  way  into  the  unknown  interior  of 
the  barn,  guided  only  by  feeling  and  a  knowledge 
of  the  common  internal  arrangement  of  barns  in 
general,  Sam  led  his  charge  to  this  safe  retreat, 
and  bidding  him  good-by  departed  on  his  devious, 
dark,  and  solitary  way  back  to  camp. 

As  he  silently  passed  the  landing  where  Jim's 
dugout  lay  he  saw  the  light  of  a  lantern  glimmer 
ing  unsteadily  along  the  wood  path  and  heard  the 
hunters  returning  in  bad  humor  from  their  un 
successful  quest,  stumbling  and  grumbling  over  the 
rough  trail. 


A  SIDE-TRACK  OF  THE   U.   G.  E.  E.          73 

"  Wai,"  said  Sam  to  himself,  as  he  listened  to 
their  floundering  progress  up  the  wooded  bank  of 
the  Slang,  "  you  faound  the  holler  tree,  but  the 
coon  wan't  in  it.  By  the  gre't  horn  spoon  !  I  'd 
ha  gi'n  a  fo'pence  tu  ha'  be'n  there  an'  seen  'em 
an'  seen  Jim  shake  that  head  o'  his  'n." 

When  he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Slang  he 
heard  the  regular  sound  of  oars  and  saw  another 
light  steadily  advancing  up  the  channel  of  the 
creek,  shining  far  along  the  quiet  water  before  it, 
while  glittering  reflections  flickered  out  like  floating 
sparks  where  the  wake  stirred  the  rushes. 

Sam  ran  his  canoe  into  the  weeds  till  the  other 
boat  had  passed.  The  lantern  shining  on  the  face 
of  the  man  in  the  stern  revealed  the  features  of 
Baker,  the  other  visitor  at  the  camp. 

"  You  planned  it  fust-rate,"  Sam  soliloquized 
again,  "  but  it 's  a  dre'f'l  poor  night  for  huntin' 
niggers.  Oh,  you  cussed  slinks  !  I  don't  lay  it  up 
so  much  ag'in  that  other  feller,  for  that 's  the  way 
he  was  brought  up  ;  but  you  -  -  V'monters  - 
huntin'  niggers !  Damn  ye  !  I  'd  luf ter  sink  ye 
in  the  mud  !  " 

So,  by  turns  boiling  with  wrath  and  chuckling 
over  the  discomfiture  of  the  slave-hunters,  Sam 
pursued  his  way  to  where  the  candle  was  burning 
low  in  the  socket  of  the  tin  lantern  which  was  hung 
out  to  beacon  him  to  the  upper  landing. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LE    FEU    FOLLET. 

THE  northern  horizon  was  glowing  with  the 
pulsating  flame  of  the  aurora,  and  the  dark  forest 
of  the  eastern  shore  echoed  at  intervals  with  the 
solemn  challenges  of  the  horned  owls,  remotely 
answered  by  their  brethren  who  held  sway  over  the 
sombre  realm  of  the  Porterboro  woods  that  stretched 
their  dark  expanse  along  the  west  bank  of  the 
South  Slang  and  beyond  the  sluggish  rivulets  of 
its  source. 

"  'Cordin'  tu  the  signs  we  're  a-goin'  tu  git  some 
sort  o'  fallin'  weather,"  Uncle  Lisha  remarked  as 
he  gave  an  eye  and  ear  to  these  prognostics  of  a 
storm. 

"  The  north'n  lights  is  shinin'  tol'lable  bright," 
said  Joseph,  peeping  through  the  trees  at  the 
celestial  display.  "  If  the  sun  hain't  crawled 
raoun'  an'  sot  back  side  o'  Canerdy.  '  Roarer 
Borer  Alice,'  Solon  calls  it." 

Antoine  rolled  himself  off  his  seat  on  to  all 
fours,  and  in  that  position  intently  regarded  such 
glimpses  of  the  flickering  arch  as  could  be  seen 


LE  FEU  FOLLET.  75 

between  the  tree  trunks  that  stood  in  black  relief 
against  it. 

"  Wai,  Ah  '11  ant  hear  it  roar,  me,  but  Ah  '11 
can  see  it  bore  some  in  de  sky.  Dat  was  what 
Solon  prob'ly  call  it  de  borer  Alice  for,  ant  he  ? 
But  Ah  do'  know  what  for  he'll  call  it  roarer, 
hein." 

"Wai,  the  fact  on't  is,  Solon  val'es  words  'cord- 
in'  tu  the  bigness  more  'n  the  meanin',  seems  's 
'ough,"  Joseph  explained,  while  Antoine,  turning 
his  searching  gaze  to  the  creek,  descried  a  light 
moving  about  in  the  black  shadows  of  the  farther 
shore. 

"  Look,  see  dar !  "  he  said  in  a  suppressed  tone 
of  alarm,  as  he  pointed  to  the  moving  light.  "  Dat 
was  de  feu  follet !  " 

"  Few  follies  is  better  'n  many,  Ann  Twine," 
said  Uncle  Lisha ;  "  but  that  'ere  hain't  nothin' 
but  someb'dy  nuther  wi'  a  lantern." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  One'  Lasha,  dat  ant  be  lamprin, 
sah  ;  dat  was  feu  follet  !  Ah,  do'  know  haow  you 
call  it  in  Angleesh,  but  he  was  very  bat  t'ing,  Ah 
tol'  you." 

"  What  is  't,  Antwine  ?  "  Joseph  inquired  ; 
"  sort  of  a  one-eyed  lew  grew  critter  sech  as  you 
was  a-tellin'  us  on  oncte?" 

The  Canadian  watched  the  light  till  it  vanished 
in  fitful  gleams  among  the  woods,  and  then,  heaving 
a  sigh  of  relief,  he  turned  and  stooped  to  the  camp- 


76  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

fire  to  rekindle  his  neglected  pipe  before  he  an 
swered. 

"  No,  seh,  Zhozeff,  he  '11  ant  so  hugly  for  keel 
someboddy  lak  de  loup  garou  ;  he  more  kan  o' 
funny  for  foolish  somebody.  Ah  '11  had  some 
experiments  of  it  mahse'f,  an'  Ah  '11  goin'  tol'  you 
of  it,  me." 

Before  seating  himself  at  the  fire  he  looked  again 
in  the  direction  where  the  light  had  disappeared. 
If  he  had  been  given  the  vision  of  an  owl  he  might 
have  seen  a  boat  with  two  figures  in  it  stealthily 
landing  at  the  farther  shore ;  but  the  faint  light 
of  the  aurora,  that  barely  defined  in  dimmed  silver 
the  course  of  the  channel,  revealed  nothing  to  him. 

"  Wen  Ah '11  was  leeve  in  Canada,"  he  began, 
as  his  pipe  responded  satisfactorily  to  his  energetic 
drafts,  each  ending  in  a  smack  like  the  stroke  of 
a  paddle  blade  upon  the  water,  "  one  tarn,  w'en 
Ah '11  han't  more  hoi'  as  twenty  year  an'  was  goin' 
for  see  de  gal  one  naght  —  he  ant  Ursule,  but 
nudder  one  dat  Ah  tink  more  of  as  evry'body 
dat  tarn,"  he  paused  a  moment  in  dreamy  retro 
spect  of  long  past  days  when  eyes  were  bright 
and  cheeks  were  rosy  that  now  were  dim  and 
faded,  and  then  resumed,  "  wal,  seh,  All  '11  was 
rode  'long  on  mah  leetly  mare.  Oh,  he  was  good 
one,  Ah  '11  tol'  you,  for  draw,  for  rode,  for  go  fas' 
—  ev'ryt'ing  'cep'  t'rashin'  machine,  dey  ant  gat 
it  den,  an'  it  was  kan'  o'  daks  in  de  naght,  an' 


LE  FEU  FOLLET.  11 

Ah  '11  see  lit  over  in  mah  fader  hees  farm  where 
dey  was  be  some  swamp  side  of  de  meader. 
Ah  '11  ant  know  if  he  was  somebody  steal  de  hay 
or  what  he  was  do,  but  Ah '11  t'ink  he  ant  gat 
some  beesiness  dar,  an'  Ah  '11  go  see  what  he  was 
do.  So  Ah  hitch  mah  hoss  —  dat  was,  mah  mare 
—  on  de  fence  an'  gat  on  de  lot  for  see  what  Ah  '11 
see. 

"  Ah  '11  go  very  softie  as  leetly  maouses,  but 
more  f urder  Ah  '11  go  de  more  furder  de  lit  was 
go.  Den  Ah  '11  beegin  for  run  fas',  but  he  run 
more  faster  as  Ah  was,  an'  den  Ah  '11  gat  mad  an' 
run  more  an'  more  faster,  an'  de  more  Ah  run  de 
more  Ah  '11  gat  mad,  an'  de  more  Ah  '11  gat  mad 
de  more  Ah  '11  run  an'  holler  sco'ndrel  name  to 
it  an'  tol'  it  for  stop,  an'  what  beesiness  he  got, 
go  to  diab'  for  see  his  one'  —  ev'ryt'ing  Ah  can 
tink,  me,  but  he  jus'  jomp  raoun'  dis  way,  dat 
way,  on  de  swamp  an'  say  not'ing,  only  mek  notion, 
an'  dat  mek  me  so  mad  Ah  '11  run  on  de  swamp 
at  it. 

"  Ah  '11  fregit  Ah  '11  gat  on  all  mah  bes'  clos'. 
Ah  '11  gat  mah  new  moccasin,  mah  bes'  tow  traow- 
ser,  mah  han'some  shirt  mah  mudder  weave  prup- 
pus,  an',  sell,  fus,  Ah  '11  stubble  mah  toe  an'  sloop ! 
Ah '11  go  all  over,  raght  on  de  black  mud  an' 
water.  Den  Ah  peek  up  mahse'f  careful,  an'  w'en 
Ah  scoop  de  mud  off  mah  heye,  Ah  '11  see  de  lit  go 
dance  'way  off  'cross  dc  swamp  where  somebody 


78  UNCLE  LISILVS  OUTING. 

can'  never  go,  an'  den  Ah  '11  know  it  was  de  feu 
follet,  an'  Ah  feel  'f  Ah  '11  ant  wort  much,  me. 

"  Wai,  Ah  go  back  where  mah  mare  was,  spluck, 
spluck,  in  my  wet  moccasin,  an'  seh,  mah  mare  he 
ant  dar.  He  gat  scare  an'  run  home,  an'  Ah  gat 
for  go  'foot  all  de  way  ;  spluck,  spluck,  all  de  way. 
My  clos'  all  sp'ile  up  so  Ah  '11  can'  go  for  see  de 
gal  dat  naght,  an'  scm  naght  nudder  feller  go  an' 
see  it  an'  cut  me  all  off,  so  Ah  '11  lose  it.  Dat  was 
pooty  bad  lucky  for  me,  but  not  so  very  bad,  for 
den  Ah  '11  go  marry  Ursule,  an'  she  more  as  feef ty 
paoun'  bigger  as  dat  gal." 

"  Why,  man  alive,  what  you  was  a  skivin'  raoun' 
in  the  ma'sh  arter  wan't  nothin'  but  a  jack  o'  lan 
tern.  I  s'pose  it 's  fox-fire  'at 's  broke  loose  from 
rotten  wood  an'  sich,  an'  goes  fluripin'  an'  driftin' 
raoun'.  But  what  you  seen  over  yonder  was  jest 
someb'dy  wi'  a  lantern,  Samwil's  niggers  a-fishin', 
like  's  not.  I  wonder  what 's  come  o'  Samwil," 
and  Uncle  Lisha  got  up  and  moved  restlessly 
about,  peering  out  upon  the  creek  and  toward  the 
landing.  "  Good  airth  an'  seas !  I  don't  see 
what  in  tunket  he  wants  to  be  a  rarin'  raoun' 
nights  for,  when  honest  folks  ort  tu  be  abed.  I 
would  n't  never  ha'  come  here  with  him  'f  I  'd 
s'posed  he  was  goin'  tu  cut  up  so.  I  'm  a  dum 
good  min'  tu  go  tu  bed  an'  let  him  go  tu  thunder, 
I  snum  I  be !  " 

Preparatory  to  the  execution  of  this  threat  he 


LE  FEU  FOLLET.  79 

retired  into  tlie  tent  and  spread  his  blankets,  but 
presently  came  forth,  sat  down  by  the  fire  and 
lighted  his  pipe,  emitting  snorts  of  impatience  be 
tween  silent  intervals  of  listening.  The  owls  had 
quit  their  dismal  calling,  and  not  a  sound  was  to 
be  heard  from  the  woods  or  waters  save  the  occa 
sional  splash  of  a  fish  or  a  waterfowl  or  a  muskrat 
busy  with  its  nightly  labors. 

"  What  ye  s'pose  has  become  o'  that  'ere  tor 
mented  boy  ? "  Uncle  Lisha  demanded  sharply, 
after  some  inward  fuming  at  the  apparent  apathy 
of  his  companions,  "  or  don'  ye  car'  whether  he  's 
draownded  or  lost  in  the  ma'sh  ?  Why  don't  ye 
say  suthin'  ?  " 

"  Wai,  Ah  guess  Sam  gat  hoi'  'nough  for  took 
care  heese'f  of  it,  prob'ly,"  Antoine  answered  with 
some  sharpness.  "  He  '11  ant  leetly  boy,  ant  it  ?  " 

"  I  was  kinder  meditatin'  it  over  in  my  mind," 
Joseph  said  apologetically,  "  an'  I  don't  seem  tu 
feel  r'al'y  oneasy  'baout  Samwil,  ner  yet  ezackly 
easy,  it  don't  seem  's  'ough.  It 's  a-gittin'  con- 
sid'able  kinder  late,  an'  then  ag'in  it  hain't  so  late 
as  it  might  be." 

"  I  wish  't  I  lied  a  rope  hitched  raoun'  his  neck, 
I  'd  fetch  him,  almighty  quick.  I  don't  see  what 
in  tunket  's  come  o'  him,"  and  Uncle  Lisha  stumped 
about,  making  the  circuit  of  the  fire,  and  gazed 
out  into  the  surrounding  darkness.  "  Wai,  it 's 
high  time  honest  folks  was  abed,  and  I  'in  a-goin' 
right  stret  off." 


80  UNCLE  LISHA' S  OUTING. 

Again  he  retired  within  the  tent,  where  he  could 
be  heard  laboriously  pulling  off  his  boots,  and  with 
deep-drawn  sighs  disposing  his  stout  form  upon  his 
low  couch.  But  not  many  moments  elapsed  before 
he  reappeared  in  his  stockings. 

"  Wai,  One'  Lasha,  you  ant  so  hones'  you  t'ink 
you  was,  ant  it  ?  " 

Uncle  Lisha  deigned  no  reply  to  the  Canadian 
but  asked  anxiously,  "  Hain't  that  'ere  tarnal  boy 
come  back  yit?  Wai,  I  swan."  Then  after  a 
moment  of  intent  listening,  "Wai,  I  'm  a  dumbed 
good  min'  to  holler,  anyway.  I  c'n  make  him  hear 
if  he  's  alive  within  a  mild  o'  here." 

As  he  drew  in  his  breath  for  a  mighty  shout 
they  heard  disturbed  waterfowl,  one  after  another, 
nearer  and  nearer,  taking  sudden  flight,  the  flutter 
of  uprising  and  cries  of  alarm  continually  drawing 
nearer,  till  at  last  the  thump  of  a  paddle  was  heard 
at  the  landing,  and  then  the  lantern  began  to  sway 
and  undulate,  now  hidden  behind  a  tree  or  knoll, 
now  shining  brighter  till  its  sprinkled  light  dis 
closed  Sam's  illuminated  legs  quite  close  at  hand. 

"  Wai,  folks,  here  I  be,"  he  announced  as  he  let 
the  full  light  of  the  candle  upon  his  face  through 
the  open  door  and  then  extinguished  it  with  a 
puff. 

"  An'  high  time  'at  you  was,"  and  Uncle  Lisha 
spent  his  hoarded  breath  in  a  growl.  "  What  ye 
be'n  shoolin'  raound  these  'ere  ma'shes  for,  a 


LE  FEU  FOLLET.  81 

ketchin'  the  fever  '11'  aig  an'  freezin'  tu  death  ? 
I  'm  a  tarnal  good  min'  ter  shake  ye,  so  I  be.  Sed 
daown  there  by  the  fire  an'  warm  ye  whilst  I  put 
on  some  more  wood.  An'  say,  Ann  Twine,  hain't 
ye  got  a  col'  duck  for  him  an'  a  hunk  o'  bread? 
I  know  he 's  hungry." 

"  I  hain't  a  mite  hungry,  ner  cold  nuther,"  Sam 
declared,  seating  himself  by  the  fire  and  preparing 
for  a  restful  smoke.  "  On'y  a  leetle  mite  tired. 
I  stayed  tu  Mr.  Bartlett's  longer  'n  what  I  meant 
tu  an'  it  's  kinder  slow  poky  work  a-keepin'  the 
channel  in  the  dark  'specherly  in  the  Slang.  I  'm 
sorry  you  got  worried." 

"  Sho,  I  wan't  worryin'  none,  but  I  was  a  leetle 
riled,"  said  the  old  man  as  he  ran  his  hand  down 
Sam's  long  shank.  "  Why,  your  laigs  is  kinder 
damp.  You  want  to  dry  'em  good  'fore  you  go  tu 
bed  !  I  'm  a  goin'  naow,  tu  stay." 

"  Ho  !  ant  worry  !  "  Antoine  scoffed.  "  Bah 
gosh,  seh,  he  was  be  fusster,  fusster  raoun'  more  as 
one  hoi'  sheekin  wid  one  hen." 

"  Yah,  if  you  ever  tol'  the  truth  folks  'ould 
b'lieve  you  oncte  in  a  while,"  Uncle  Lisha  growled 
back  from  the  depths  of  the  tent,  where,  after  a 
prelude  of  sighs  and  yawns,  there  came  a  regular 
succession  of  sounds  wherewith  he  was  wont  to  pro 
claim  his  presence  in  dreamland. 

"  Wai,"  said  Joseph  sleepily,  "  I  s'pose  if  I 
don't  never  go  tu  bed  I  shan't  never  git  up,  an' 


82  UNCLE  LISIIAS   OUTING. 

it 's  the  wust  o'  goin'  tu  bed  'at  you  du  hafter  git 
up  some  time  er  nuther,"  and  he  went  to  join 
Uncle  Lisha. 

"  Say,  Sam,"  Antoine  whispered  cautiously, 
"  Where  you  was,  hein  ?  " 

Sam  cast  a  scrutinizing  glance  upon  him  as  he 
answered,  "Why,  up  to  Mr.  Bartlett's.  Where 
d'  ye  s'pose.  Le'  's  go  tu  bed." 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CANADA  BOAT  DEPARTS. 

IN  prompt  fulfillment  of  the  night's  prophecies, 
the  morning,  dawning  dully  through  a  thick  veil  of 
clouds,  brought  a  drizzle  of  rain.  This  fell  with 
such  a  drowsy  patter  on  the  canvas  roof  that  the 
inmates  of  the  camp  felt  little  inclination  to  bestir 
themselves  till  impelled  to  do  so  by  hunger. 

Then  Sam  and  Antoine  crept  out  and  after  in 
specting  the  lowering  sky  set  about  building  a 
fire  and  making  other  preparations  for  breakfast, 
though  Uncle  Lisha  advised  a  cold  bite  in  the  shel 
ter  of  the  tent. 

"  No,  sah,"  Antoine  objected  as  he  moved  around 
the  fire,  quite  regardless  of  the  slow  drizzle  of  rain 
except  when  the  drip  of  an  overhanging  bough 
aroused  a  spiteful  sputter  of  the  pan  wherein  two 
split  ducks  were  frying.  "  We  '11  ant  goin'  for 
discourage  do  inside  of  us  wid  col'  victual  w'en  de 
rine  comin'  on  de  aoutside.  Ah  tol'  you,  if  mans 
wan'  have  hees  heart  warm  he  '11  gat  for  had  hees 
stommack  warm.  Ah  '11  can'  faght  wort'  four 
cen'  'fore  Ah  '11  gat  good  breakfis'  wen  Ah  '11  was 
in  Papineau  war." 


84  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

"  Ner  arter,  nuther,  I  guess,"  Uncle  Lisha  com 
mented,  but  Antoine  took  no  notice  of  this  imputa 
tion  of  a  lack  of  valor. 

"  But  w'en  Ah  gat  good  big  hot  breakfis'  behin' 
mah  gaun,  den  Ah  tol'  you,  dey  gat  for  ta'  careful 
if  dey  ant  wan'  me  for  hurt  it." 

"  Sho,  Ann  Twine !  I  cal'late,"  said  Uncle  Lisha 
in  sentences  interrupted  by  the  labor  of  drawing 
on  his  boots,  "  'at  it 's  a  dum  foolish  business  — 
ugh !  I  got  tu  grease  these  'ere  boots  —  a  fillin' 
up  wi'  good  victuals  —  m-m-mugh  !  They  're 
stiffer  '11  sap  troughs  —  afore  a  feller  goes  aout 
a-fightin'  an'  run  the  resk  on  't  bein'  wasted 
s'posin'  he  gits  killed.  Then  again,  s'posin'  a 
feller  hed  tu  run,  he  'd  stan'  a  better  chance  if  he 
was  light-loaded.  There !  you  be  on,  an'  ye  don't 
come  off  ag'in  till  you  're  'iled,  if  I  hafter  rub  ye 
with  a  fat  duck  !  " 

"  Ah,  One'  Lasha,  you  ant  know  not'ing  'baout 
war,"  cried  Antoine,  lifting  the  potato  kettle  off 
the  fire  and  emptying  the  water  from  it.  "  Fetch 
de  dauk  in  de  coop,  Sam.  We  '11  can't  sit  aour 
table  in  de  rine,"  and  he  swung  the  kettle  over 
Uncle  Lisha' s  imperiled  legs  to  a  place  inside  the 
tent  and  Sam  bestowed  the  sizzling  frying-pan  be 
side  it. 

Peering  under  his  glasses,  Uncle  Lisha  forked  a 
potato  on  to  his  plate  as  he  snorted  contemptu 
ously,  "  Honh !  do'  known  nothin'  'baout  wars  ! 


THE  CANADA  E OAT  DEPARTS.      85 

Why,  you  poor  ig'ii'ant  infant,  I  was  a  sojerin' 
wi'in  a  mild  o'  here  afore  you  was  borned.  Yes, 
sir,  the  Hawley  place  hain't  a  mild  f'm  here,  where 
we  was  posted,  a-watchin'  for  the  British,  an'  abaout 
a  mild  furder  is  Fort  Casin,  where  they  come  an' 
fit  an'  got  licked  tew.  I  'm  a-goin'  tu  take  Jozeff 
over  there  an'  show  it  tu  him  some  day.  An' 
wan't  I  tu  Plattsburgh  ?  Sho,  Ann  Twine,  your 
leetle  Poppynew  muss  wan't  the  jab  of  a  paigiii' 
awl  tu  what  we  lied  them  times.  Lord,  if  you  c'ld 
ha'  seen  them  ships  arter  they  fit.  The  mas's  an' 
sails  an'  riggiii'  all  tore  tu  rags  an'  kin'lin'  wood, 
an'  the  decks  kivered  wi'  blood  wus  'n  a  slotter 
haouse.  An'  the  poor  waounded  critters,  aour  'n 
an'  their  'n.  It  wan't  no  putty  sight  tu  look  at. 
It  made  me  praoud  'nough  tu  bu'st  tu  see  the  stars 
an'  stripes  a-flyin'  over  all  them  ships,  but  when  I 
see  them  'ere  poor  Britishers  waounded  an'  dyin' 
fur  from  hum  an'  their  women  folks,  it  took  all  the 
spite  ag'in  'em  clean  aouten  on  me." 

"  You  t'ink  prob'ly  dey  heat  too  much  breakfis', 
ant  it,  One'  Lasha  ?  so  he  can'  run." 

"  I  do'  know  haow  't  was  wi'  them,  but  we  lied  n't 
lied  none  tew  much,  I  c'n  tell  ye,"  Uncle  Lisha 
answered  as  he  sawed  laboriously  on  the  thigh  of 
a  duck  with  a  dull  knife,  and  was  reminded  to 
remark,  "  I  tell  ye  what  it  is,  boys,  it  was  a  terrible 
good  idee  they  usetcr  hev  when  I  was  young,  o' 
cuttin'  up  the'  meat  victuals  intu  maouthfuls  'fore 


86  UNCLE  HSUA'S   OUTING. 

it  was  put  ontu  the  table,  an'  then  let  ev'b'dy  fork 
for  hisself  aouten  one  dish.  It  saved  lots  o'  time 
an'  rastlin'  wi'  tough  meat  when  folks  was  in  a 
hurry  tu  git  aout  tu  the'  work." 

"  Ah  '11  ant  want  for  chaup  more  as  de  meat 
for  mahse'f,  bah  gosh,"  Antoine  declared. 

"  The'  uster  be  some  tollable  lively  hustliii', 
tusslin'  for  ch'ice  pieces,"  the  old  man  continued, 
reminiscently.  "  Father  useter  tell  of  a  neighbor 
o'  his  'n  'at  said  liaow  he  'd  broke  his  child'en's 
temper  wi'  maple  sugar.  One  mornin'  father  hap 
pened  in  of  an  arrant,  when  they  was  eatin'  the' 
breakfas',  all  a-fishin'  the  fried  meat  aouten  one 
dish,  an'  the  ol'  man  hed  got  him  the  best  and  big 
gest  maou'f ul  in  the  hul  lot  ontu  his  fork,  when  one 
o'  the  boys  up  an'  flipped  it  off  an'  hed  his  fork  into 
't  an'  into  his  own  maouth  with  't  quicker  'n  scat. 
Father  'lowed  the  maple  sugar  hed  worked  fust 
rate.  Wai,  I  b'lieve  I  've  hed  enough  for  oncte. 
Ann  Twine,  be  you  a-goin'  tu  eat  all  day  ?  " 

"  Ah  '11  was  been  lis'lin'  to  you,  One'  Lasha," 
Antoine  answered,  settling  himself  to  his  work. 
"Naow  Ah '11  was  goin'  for  heat.  Dat  was  de 
bes'  t'ing  we  can  do  w'en  it  was  rine,  'cep'  go 
fee  shin'." 

"  An'  I  cal'late  tu  stick  right  by  ye,  Autwinc," 
said  Joseph  from  behind  a  duck's  wing  that  he  was 
gnawing,  holding  it  with  both  hands.  "  I  hain't 
the  kind  er  man  tu  desart  a  friend  in  no  sech 


THE  CANADA  BOAT  DEPARTS.  87 

scrape,  don't  seem  's  'ough  I  was,  not  as  I  feel 
naow." 

Uncle  Lisha  filled  his  pipe  and  went  out  to 
enjoy  it  by  the  fireside  under  shelter  of  his  blue 
umbrella,  and  Sam,  after  providing  a  present  supply 
of  firewood  with  a  few  axe-strokes,  wandered  out  to 
the  bluff  overlooking  the  creek. 

Through  the  windows  of  the  woods,  mullioned 
with  gray  trunks  and  curtained  with  gay  branches, 
there  could  be  gained  narrow  glimpses  of  the  nearer 
marsh,  tinted  with  many  blended  colors  and  dotted 
with  green  islands  of  button-bush  ;  then  the  broad 
channel,  leaden  gray  under  the  sunless  sky  and 
drizzling  rain,  the  dull  expanse  broken  here  and 
there  by  ducks  reveling  apart  or  in  companies, 
enjoying  the  weather  that  set  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  a-moping. 

Beyond  was  the  farther  border  of  marsh  and 
then  the  sheer  wall  of  forest,  making  the  horizon 
against  the  low  sky  that  enveloped  far  mountains 
and  nearer  hills  in  common  obscurity. 

The  yellow  poplars  and  the  scarlet  pepperidges 
shone  through  the  veil  of  rain  as  if  yesterday's 
sunshine  was  still  held  in  them  to  brighten  to-day's 
sombre  monotony  of  gray. 

Like  outlooks  on  the  lakeward  side  revealed  only 
the  dull  expanse  of  gray  water  receding  into  the 
gray  mist  toward  unseen  shores,  except  where  Gar 
den  Island  loomed,  blurred  and  undefined,  between 


UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

shrouded  water  and  low  sky,  with  one  yellow-leafed 
birch  flaring  like  a  beacon  half  quenched  on  the 
western  point,  and  off  the  eastern  point  a  black 
rock,  like  a  fast-anchored  buoy. 

Farther  away,  Long  Point  lay  like  a  fallen  cloud 
afloat  on  the  water,  moored  to  the  stable  earth  by 
nearer  drawing  shores  of  rock  and  sandy  beach  and 
the  willow-clad  bar  of  Little  Otter. 

Here  and  there  were  dots  and  lines  of  swimming 
waterfowl  on  the  unreflecting  surface  of  the  bay, 
and  occasionally  a  flying  flock  faring  out  to  safety 
of  wide  waters  or  into  the  abundance  of  the 
marshes,  dissolving  in  the  mist  or  materializing  out 
of  it  as  they  went  or  came. 

A  scattered  company  of  crows  straggled  in  slow 
flight  athwart  the  screen  of  rain  and  mist ;  a  king 
fisher  hung  in  stationary  poise  against  it,  then 
plunged  like  a  plummet  into  the  water,  and  far  out 
on  the  shallows  a  heron  stood  waiting  in  statuesque 
patience  for  breakfast  to  swim  to  him. 

Far  or  near  there  was  no  visible  sign  of  human 
life,  nor  amid  the  continuous  purr  of  the  rain,  the 
contented  gabble  of  the  ducks,  the  whistle  of  pass 
ing  wings,  the  raucous  call  of  some  estray  or  lag 
gard,  and  the  metallic  clatter  of  the  kingfisher, 
was  there  any  sound  of  it  except  from  the  quarter 
where  the  Canadian  boat  was  taking  in  its  cargo. 

Thence  through  the  heavy  vaporous  atmosphere 
came  the  lumbering  of  laden  wagons,  the  rumble  of 


THE  CANADA  BOAT  DEPARTS.  89 

their  discharging  freight,  and  then  the  brisk  rattle 
of  departing  empty  wagons,  all  mingled  with  the 
shouts  of  teamsters  and  the  vociferous  jabber  of 
captain  and  crew. 

For  one  who  had  no  apparent  reason  for  being 
interested  in  fruit  trade,  Sam  was  uncommonly 
well  pleased  that  the  rainy  day  was  not  hindering 
it,  and  having  assured  himself  of  the  fact  he  re 
turned  to  camp. 

Uncle  Lisha  still  sat  by  the  fire,  the  staff  of  his 
umbrella  resting  across  his  shoulder  while  he  dili 
gently  greased  his  boots  with  the  tallow  in  the 
bottom  of  the  lantern,  the  accumulated  drip  of 
many  candles,  Joseph  and  Antoine  looking  on  with 
interest  from  the  tent  door. 

"  You  don't  want  tu  burn  your  boots,  Uncle 
Lisher,"  said  Sam,  standing  by  the  fire  and  letting 
the  water  from  his  hat  brim  drip  into  it.  "  There 's 
more  profit  tu  you  in  hevin'  other  folks  burn  up 
their  'n.  I  do  b'lieve  I  smell  burnt  hither." 

"  I  guess  they  hain't  gittin'  tew  hot,"  said 
Uncle  Lisha,  running  his  finger  over  the  soles. 
"  Makes  me  think  o'  the  feller  'at  went  tu  a  neigh 
bor's  a-visitin'  wi'  a  pair  o'  bran'  new  boots  on, 
which  for  all  he  spread  'em  aout  on  the  stove 
ha'th,  an'  stuck  'em  top  o'  chairs,  the'  wouldn't 
nob'dy  notice  'em,  an'  so  when  he  see  they  wan't 
a-goin'  tu  say  nothin'  abaout  'em,  he  up  an'  says, 
says  he, '  Ye  need  n't  think  strange  if  ye  smell  new 
luther.'  Wai,  Samwil,  what  ye  diskivered  ?  " 


90  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  Nothin'  but  water  an'  ma'sh  an'  woods,  lookin' 
lunsomcr  'n  they  did  a  hundred  year  ago,  fer  there 
hain't  even  an  Injun  in  sight.  I  heard  the  French 
man  Iwudin'  his  boat,  though."  , 

"  Wai,"  sighed  Antoine,  "  All  wish  Ah  '11  was 
be  apples,  me,  so  he  was  bought  me  an'  took  it  to 
Canada.  But  so  as  Ah  can'  do  dat,  Ah  guess 
Ah  '11  do  nex'  bes'  an'  go  f eesh  some  bull  pawt. 
You  '11  goin'  'long  to  me,  Zhozeff  ?  We  go  on  de 
scaow,  an'  took  some  funs." 

Joseph  looked  out  upon  the  dismal  drizzle  with 
a  rueful  countenance  and  answered,  "  Wai,  I  don't 
sca'cely  seem  tu  feel  like  goin',  not  ezackly.  It 's 
kinder  oncomf  table  an'  sorter  exposin'  a-fishin'  in 
the  rain,  an'  I  'm  mortal  afeared  o'  ketchin'  a  eel. 
I  like  tu  eat  'em,  but  I  swan  I  don't  lufter  ketch 
'em." 

"  Oh,  come,  Zhozeff,"  Antoine  urged  in  a  persua 
sive  tone.  "  If  you  ant  want  for  ketch  it,  Ah  '11 
ketch  it,  an'  you  can  ketch  de  udder  leetly  feller. 
Come,  Zhozeff." 

"  Wai,  I  ruther  guess  I  won't,  I  'm  'bleeged  tu 
ye,"  and  Joseph  settled  himself  more  comfortably 
in  his  seat.  "  I  don't  'pear  tu  hanker  much  fer 
fishin'  tu-day.  Mebby  Uncle  Lisha  '11  go,  er  Sam- 
wil,  mebby." 

But  Sam  shook  his  head  in  decided  negative, 
and  Uncle  Lisha  audibly  declined :  "  Good  airth 
an'  seas !  You  don't  ketch  me  goin'  fishin'  fer 


THE  CANADA  BOAT  DEPARTS.  91 

scch  fish  in  sech  weather ;  I  hain't  a  loon  er  a 
shell  duck." 

"  Den,  bah  gosh,  all  Ah  '11  ketch  Ah  '11  heat  all," 
Antoine  declared  and  went  out  to  grub  for  worms 
in  the  adjacent  pasture.  After  a  while  he  returned 
from  a  successful  quest,  and  getting  a  hook  and 
line  from  among  his  stores  he  cut  a  cedar  pole  and 
set  forth.  Presently  his  camp  mates  heard  the 
creak  and  splash  of  his  departing  oars,  then  a 
hollow  clank  as  they  were  dropped  in  board,  and 
then  the  rattle  of  the  chain  being  wound  about  the 
nearest  fishing  stake,  and  then  they  imagined  that 
they  heard  the  whistle  of  his  line  and  the  spang  of 
his  heavy  sinker  as  he  made  the  first  vigorous  cast. 
Two  hours  later  he  appeared,  dripping  but  happy, 
bringing  a  number  of  dressed  bull  pouts  which, 
fried  to  a  turn,  he  did  not  devour  alone  as  he  had 
threatened,  but  shared  with  his  companions. 

The  afternoon  was  spent  in  the  tent.  Uncle 
Lisha  discoursed  of  the  past  and  Antoine  of  vari 
ous  men  in  Canada  who  were  always  the  heroes  of 
his  tales,  while  in  the  breaks  of  conversation  Sam 
several  times  went  but  for  the  ostensible  purpose 
of  a  general  inspection  of  the  weather,  though  the 
examination  was  mostly  confined  to  the  direction  of 
Lewis  Creek. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  wind  freshened  from 
the  northeast,  the  tossed  branches  dropped  sudden 
showers  upon  the  canvas  with  a  startling,  ripping 


92  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

sound,  and  amid  the  sullen  murmur  of  the  wind 
swept  woods  and  the  louder  patter  of  the  driven 
rain  could  be  heard  the  regular  wash  of  the  rising- 
waves  and  the  shrill  whistle  of  frequent  flocks 
scudding  in  from  the  lake. 

Then  Sam  saw  the  Canada  boat  gliding  down 
the  unseen  channel,  the  great  square  sail  stalking 
between  the  trees  like  a  gigantic  ghost,  till  at  last 
it  walked  forth  upon  the  vexed  lake  amid  the  taller 
phantoms  of  mist  and  vanished  in  the  thronging 
host. 

Sam  reentered  the  tent  with  a  satisfied  visage 
and  remarked :  — 

"  Wai,  that  'ere  Frenchman  's  got  started  fer 
Canerdy  with  his  apples." 

"  An'  like  'nough  a  blackbary,"  Uncle  Lisha 
added,  with  a  significant  twinkle  in  his  eye. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   EAST    SLANG. 

DURING  the  night  the  rain  ceased,  and  the 
morning  broke  through  rifted  clouds  which  slowly 
scattered  in  white-fleeced  flocks  and  drifted  away 
across  the  azure  field.  Though  the  storm  had  par 
tially  stripped  the  trees  of  their  ripened  leaves, 
they  seemed  none  the  less  brilliant  when  the  un 
veiled  splendor  of  the  sun  fell  upon  them,  for  each 
unfallen  leaf  had  gained  more  intense  color,  and 
like  every  branch  and  twig  sparkled  with  innumer 
able  drops  of  liquid  crystal. 

Leaving  their  companions  to  the  pursuit  of  sport 
on  shore,  Sam  and  Antoine  took  their  guns  and 
went  down  to  the  upper  landing,  where  they  were 
surprised  to  find  a  couple  of  blanket-coated  swarthy 
men,  just  landed  from  a  bark  canoe,  bending  in 
tently  over  the  dew-beaded  bottom  of  Sam's  up 
turned  canoe  and  conversing  in  unintelligible,  low, 
and  musical  tones. 

"  Dar  was  you  Injin,  jes'  Ah  to?  you,"  said  An 
toine  triumphantly. 

At   their  approach   the  Indians  turned   toward 


94  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

them  without  any  manifestation  of  surprise,  and 
one  of  them,  a  good-looking  man  of  middle  age, 
greeted  Sam  with  a  pleasant  smile  of  recognition. 

"  How  do,  Lovet  ?  Know  me  ?  Me  Joe  Tock- 
soose.  Make  um  dat  canoe  five,  six  year  'go." 

"  Why,  yes  ;  so  you  be,"  said  Sam,  giving  him  a 
cordial  hand ;  "  but  I  never  s'posed  I  'd  run  ag'in 
ye  here.  Trappin',  be  ye  ?  " 

"  Yaas,  ketch  um  moosquas,  some." 

His  companion  ignored  the  presence  of  the  white 
men  after  the  first  glance  at  them,  and  turned  his 
back  upon  them  and  pottered  lazily  over  a  useless 
rearrangement  of  the  traps  and  muskrats  in  the 
bow  of  his  canoe.  His  low-browed  face  was  sullen, 
his  little  eyes  as  cruel  as  a  snake's,  and  he  looked 
as  if  he  might  be  a  savage  brother  rather  than  a 
civilized  descendant  of  his  barbarian  ancestors. 

"  You  no  trap  um  musquas  ?  "  Tocksoose  asked. 

"  No,  hunting  ducks.     Shot  many,  hev  ye  ?  " 

"  No,  rather  have  musquas.  Better  for  eat. 
Better  for  skin.  Shoot  um  plenty  duck  ?  " 

"  Wai,  some.  Hain't  hunted  a  tumble  sight. 
Where  be  you  a-campin'  ?  " 

"  Up  dar,"  the  Indian  answered,  pointing  toward 
the  Slang.  "  Make  'em  good  canoe.  Very  good 
bark.  Come  see  some  day." 

"  Nawah,  Tocksoose,"  the  other  Indian  growled 
with  gruff  impatience  as  he  shoved  the  canoe  afloat 
and  stepped  into  it. 


TUE  EAST  SLANG.  95 

"  Onli-onli,  me  come,"  Tocksoose  answered,  and 
followed  his  companion.  "  Goo'-by,  Lovet,  come 
see  canoe,"  and  getting  clear  of  the  weeds  they 
paddled  away  as  silently  as  if  they  were  ghosts 
of  their  long-departed  progenitors  haunting  the' 
changed  scenes  of  their  earthly  life.  The  Indians 
went  across  and  down  stream,  examining  and  re 
setting  their  traps  in  houses  along  the  border  of 
the  marsh. 

Sam  and  Antoine  shaped  their  course  up  stream, 
finding  no  game  on  the  ground  which  the  trappers 
had  just  passed  over,  but  after  passing  the  South 
Slang  ducks  arose,  singly  and  in  flocks,  frequently 
enough  to  give  them  all  the  shooting  they  could 
wish.  But  they  missed  much  oftener  than  they 
killed,  for  Sam  had  not  acquired  the  knack  of  cut 
ting  down  his  birds  in  the  moment  that  they 
labored  upward  from  the  rushy  covert  before  they 
began  to  climb  the  air  in  a  swift  ascending  slant, 
or  scurrying  away  in  swifter  level  flight,  when  he 
continually  made  the  mistake  of  shooting  behind 
his  mark. 

Antoine  always  dwelt  long  on  his  aim,  and  when 
he  attempted  a  shot  at  a  single  flying  bird,  poked 
after  it  till  it  was  out  of  range  and  then  lowered 
his  wabbling  muzzle  or  blazed  away  into  empty 
space.  Now  and  then  a  duck  succumbed  to  Sam's 
shot  and  came  down  with  a  headlong,  surging 
splash  into  the  marsh,  perhaps  to  be  lost  in  the 


96  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

even  sameness  of  the  sedgy  level,  perhaps  to  be 
retrieved  after  a  groping  search  in  the  maze  of 
wild  rice  stalks  or  denser  tangle  of  more  diversified 
marsh  growth.  Achieving  such  indifferent  success, 
they  came  to  the  East  Slang  and  entered  the  nar 
row  channel,  when  a  dusky  duck  arose  from  the 
weeds  on  their  left  with  a  prodigious  flutter  and 
outcry  of  alarm.  Sam  caught  aim  and  fired  in 
the  instant  during  which  she  hung  almost  station 
ary  after  the  upward  spring.  Confident  of  the 
correctness  of  his  aim,  he  was  surprised  and  dis 
gusted  beyond  measure  to  see  the  heavy  bird  con 
tinue  her  flight,  climbing  the  air  almost  perpen 
dicularly  and  with  continually  increasing  speed  to 
a  height  at  which  she  looked  no  bigger  than  a 
swallow. 

"  "Wai,  by  the  gre't  horn  spoon  ! "  was  all  he 
could  say,  and  Antoine  "offered  such  soothing  con 
dolence  as  one  is  apt  to  receive  when  he  has  made 
an  unsuccessful  shot. 

"  Wai,  Ah  '11  was  spec'  for  see  it  tombly,  he  was 
'so  beeg  lak  geese  an'  so  close  Ah  can  mos'  stroke 
it  wid  mah  paddle.  Prob'ly  you  '11  was  hit  it,  but 
he  was  fool  dauk  an'  ant  know  de  way  for  fall,  so 
he  fall  up,  prob'ly,  'less  prob'ly  he  was  gat  tire  of 
dis  wicked  worl'  an'  goin'  look  for  de  angel.  Bah 
gosh,  he  mos'  gat  where  dey  was." 

They  were  still  watching  the  towering  bird  when 
suddenly  her  wings  closed  spasmodically  and  she 


THE  EAST  SLANG.  97 

came  down  like  a  plummet,  striking  the  water  so 
near  them  that  the  canoe  was  sprinkled  with  the 
upbursting  shower  of  spray,  while  in  the  centre  of 
the  circling  wavelets  the  inert,  lifeless  bird  rose 
and  sank  like  a  balancing  scale. 

Again  Sam  ejaculated,  "  Wai,  by  the  gre't  horn 
spoon  !  "  and  Antoine  was  surprised  into  an  expres 
sion  of  astonishment.  A  close  examination  proved 
that  the  bird  had  been  hit  by  a  single  shot,  which 
had  bored  the  brain. 

"  Jes'  Ah  tol'  you,"  said  Antoine  complacently  ; 
"  you  '11  was  mek  him  crazy  in  hees  head  of  it,  so 
he  '11  ant  know  de  way  for  fall.  Ah  '11  know  what 
hail  it  jes'  soon  Ah  '11  see  him  fall  up  dat  way,  me." 

Sam's  gun  was  reloaded,  and  they  were  again 
moving  forward  when  a  small,  dusky-hued  water 
fowl  swam  boldly  into  the  channel  before  them 
within  short  range. 

"  HoF  on.  Don'  shot,"  Antoine  said  in  a  low 
but  intensely  earnest  tone  as  Sam  leveled  his  gun 
on  the  easy  mark  ;  but  as  the  words  were  spoken 
the  trigger  was  pulled,  and  out  of  the  cloud  of 
smoke  the  shot  rained  upon  the  spot  from  which 
the  daring  fowl  had  instantaneously  vanished. 

"  Dar,"  cried  Antoine  in  supreme  disgust,  as  the 
rebounding  echoes  came  rolling  back  from  hill  and 
woodland,  "  Ant  Ah  '11  tol'  you  ?  What  for  you 
shot  at  dat  mis'bly  leetly  hell-davver  ?  You  can't 
keel  it  more  as  hit  litlin',  an'  if  you  '11  was  gat  it, 


98  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

he  ant  wors  more  as  not'ing  't  all.  Naow  he 
gone  daown  for  see  his  fader,  de  dev',  an'  in  min 
ute  he  come  back  for  laft  at  you.  Dar."  And 
there  indeed  the  uncanny,  keen-eyed,  sharp-billed 
head  popped  just  above  the  surface  two  gunshots 
away,  swimming  for  the  marsh,  where  it  presently 
disappeared. 

Then  they  were  startled  by  a  rush  of  multitudi 
nous  swift  wings,  and  a  great  flock  of  teal  swept 
past,  following  every  turn  of  the  channel  in  their 
arrowy  flight  till  they  alighted  with  a  long,  re 
sounding  splash  fifty  rods  farther  up  stream. 
Standing  up  and  peering  cautiously  over  the  marsh, 
Sam  saw  the  flock  swimming  in  the  channel  oppo 
site  to  a  clump  of  low-branched  trees  on  the  east 
ern  bank. 

"  They  hain't  six  rod  from  a  good  place  to  crawl 
up  tu  'em,"  he  whispered,  as  he  settled  back  on  to 
his  knees  and  took  up  a  paddle.  "  Le  's  run  int' 
the  brook  here  an'  land  an'  tackle  'em  from  the 
bank.  If  we  git  a  good  lick  at  'cm  we  won't  want 
tu  hunt  no  more  to-day." 

They  landed  on  the  bank  of  the  brook  and  held 
across  the  field  till  the  clump  of  trees  were  in  range 
with  the  place  where  the  teal  had  alighted.  Turn 
ing  at  a  right  angle,  they  advanced  cautiously  in 
this  direction  and  were  soon  close  behind  a  screen 
of  low-hanging  oak  branches,  looking  between  which 
they  saw  at  least  a  hundred  unsuspecting  teal 


THE  EAST  SLANG.  99 

swimming  and  feeding  within  easy  range,  the  blue 
wings  gleaming  in  the  sunlight  in  brilliant  contrast 
to  the  dull  color  of  the  general  plumage. 

"You  pour  it  hit'  the  thick  on  'em  a-settin'," 
Sam  whispered,  as  they  silently  cocked  their  guns, 
"  an'  I  '11  let  'em  hev  when  they  rise." 

Antoinc  nodded  and  poked  his  gun  through  an 
opening  to  what  he  imagined  to  be  a  perfect  aim  on 
the  thickest  huddle  of  the  flock.  Sam  felt  a  pang 
of  contrition  for  the  impending  slaughter  of  the 
innocents,  but  held  his  gun  ready  to  do  his  part  in 
it.  The  roar  of  Antoine's  gun  was  prolonged  by 
the  roar  of  a  hundred  pairs  of  wings  starting  to 
simultaneous  flight,  and  quickly  echoed  by  Sam's 
discharge.  Rushing  forward  to  the  verge  of  the 
marsh,  the  shooters  peered  eagerly  under  the  lift 
ing  cloud  of  smoke  and  saw  one  solitary  wing- 
tipped  teal  struggling  toward  the  cover  of  the 
marsh  through  the  frost-blackened  lily-pads.  An- 
toine  had  quite  overshot  the  sitting  birds,  and 
Sam,  aiming  at  the  whole  flock,  had  missed  all  but 
the  chance-struck  victim. 

As  far  up  stream  as  there  was  water  enough  to 
float  one,  it  must  have  been  alive  with  ducks,  for 
now  the  air  was  swarming  with  them,  a  disturbed 
congregation,  uttering  cries  of  alarm,  some  circling 
about  in  confused  flight,  some  making  straight 
away  over  the  woods  to  the  two  creeks,  and  some 
following  the  course  of  the  stream,  passing  overhead 
and  before  the  chopfallen  gunners. 


100  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

"  Sam,  bah-a-gosh !  "  Antoine  ejaculated  in  most 
abject  self -disgust.  "  Le  's  we  load  off  aour  gaun 
an'  shot  one  'nudcler.  We  gat  too  fool  for  leeve 
some  more." 

"  By  the  gre't  horn  spoon,  Antwine,"  Sam 
replied  in  utter  contempt  of  their  performance, 
"we  couldn't  hit  one  'nuther  erless  we  helt  the 
muzzles  o'  aour  guns  in  aour  maouths.  We  might 
's  well  go  an'  git  the  canew  an'  see  if  we  c'n  find 
that  'ere  waounded  duck,"  and  he  began  carefully 
reloading  his  gun. 

"  Dat  dauk  ?  You  maght  jes'  well  hunt  for 
haystack  wid  needle  as  hunt  dat  dauk.  Nobody 
fan'  him  but  mink  or  prob'ly  de  hawk.  What 
for  you  load  off  you  gaun  ?  Bah  gosh !  Ah  '11 
ant  load  off  mah  gaun  some  more.  He  ant  so 
good  as  stick  hwood.  Ah,  sacre  hoi'  damnashin' 
gaun !  "  Antoine  growled  at  his  musket  and  han 
dled  it  as  if  with  an  intention  of  smashing  it  on 
the  nearest  tree,  but  at  last  shouldered  it.  Sam 
finished  reloading  and  remarked  as  he  set  a  cap 
on  the  nipple :  — 

"It  hain't  no  use  o'  blamin'  it  ont'  the  guns, 
Antwine." 

They  took  the  shortest  way  to  the  canoe,  each 
engaged  in  the  unprofitable  silent  self-communion 
which  is  a  common  but  not  happy  experience  of 
sportsmen.  To  what  one  of  the  brotherhood  does 
not  the  missing  of  a  lost  opportunity  come  like  a 


THE  EAST  SLANG.  101 

ghost  to  haunt  his  waking  hours  and  trouble  his 
dreams  ? 

Their  moody  silence  was  continued  as  they  pad 
dled  down  the  Slang,  each  plying  the  paddle 
industriously,  quite  regardless  of  every  chance  of 
a  shot  offered  by  rising  or  passing  birds.  Of  the 
last  there  were  not  a  few,  for  a  boat  was  coming 
down  the  creek,  disturbing  the  waterfowl  with 
more  frequent  shots  than  Sam  had  ever  heard 
except  at  a  general  muster  of  the  militia,  or  had 
Antoine  since  the  Papineau  war. 

"It  was  prob'ly  some  boy  jes'  shot  for  mek 
nowse,"  Antoine  commented. 

The  heads  of  the  two  occupants  of  the  approach 
ing  boat  could  now  be  seen  above  the  wild  rice 
that  hid  craft  and  channel.  Presently  a  pair  of 
wood  ducks  sprang  into  the  air  a  few  rods  in  ad 
vance  of  the  moving  heads,  one  flying  to  the  right, 
the  other  to  the  left,  and  in  the  same  instant  the 
polished  barrels  of  a  gun  flashed  upward  in  the 
sunlight,  a  jet  of  smoke  puffed  out,  followed  by 
another  as  quick  as  a  finger  could  shift  triggers, 
and  as  the  double  report  rolled  up  wind  to  their 
ears  the  two  canoe-men  saw  the  ducks  tumble  limp 
and  lifeless  back  into  the  marsh.  Three  more 
ducks,  alarmed  by  the  echoes  that  rebounded  from 
the  wooded  shore  beside  which  they  were  resting, 
got  up  together  at  long  range,  but  the  alert 
sportsman  picked  up  a  second  gun  and  brought 


102  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

down  two  with  the  first  barrel  and  with  the  second 
hit  the  last  of  three  so  hard  that  it  came  down 
with  a  long  slant  in  front  of  the  canoe  now  emer 
ging  from  the  Slang.  Sam  finished  the  wounded 
fowl  with  a  charge  from  his  long  single-barrel  and 
exclaimed  in  reply  to  Antoine :  — 

"  Boys !  I  cal'late  that  feller 's  a  man,  an'  one 
'at  understand  his  business.  By  mighty!  don't 
he  jest  clear  the  sky  o'  ducks  ?  Le  's  let  him  go 
ahead,  for  I  'd  a  dumb'd  sight  druther  see  him  shoot 
'an  tu  shoot  myself,  leastways  as  I  'pear  tu  shoot 
tu-day." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    SPOKTSMAN. 

The  wild  duck,  as  he  scuds  along, 

Seeth  thine  eye  of  black, 
And  cries  with  shrill,  despairing  tone, 
' '  Don't  shoot,  old  boy,  I  'm  coming  down ; 
I  know  you.  Cousin  Jack  !  " 

E.  J.  PHELPS. 

"  HERE  's  another  duck  o'  your  'n,"  Sam  ad 
dressed  the  stranger  as  the  other  boat  drew  near. 
"  You  'pear  tu  git  ev'y  bird  'at  you  p'int  at." 

"  No,  not  quite,"  said  the  gentleman,  for  such 
he  was,  and  a  handsome  one  too,  with  keen  black 
eyes  and  finely  cut  features  and  an  easy  graceful 
bearing.  "  I  've  heard  of  men  who  did  that  and 
heard  them  tell  of  doing  it,  but  I  never  saw  them 
do  it.  But  you  'd  better  take  this  bird,  you  're 
quite  welcome  to  it." 

"No,  thank  ye,"  said  Sam,  "  me  an'  this  man  's 
a-gittin'  more  shots  'an  we  c'n  'tend  tu.  My,  you  'd 
ortu  seen  us  make  the  feathers  fly  up  the  East 
Slang."  Sam  felt  that  open  confession  might  ease 
his  soul. 

"  Don'  you  tol'  him,  Sam,"  Antoine  whispered 


104  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

hoarsely.  "  Ant  we  shem  'nougli  for  had  we  an' 
de  dauk  know  it  ?  " 

"Wai,  go  ahead,  mister,"  said  Sam,  and  the 
other  boat  took  the  lead. 

"  He  hain't  got  him  no  gre't  of  a  paddler,"  Sam 
remarked  as  he  watched  the  clumsy  propelling  of 
the  larger  craft,  paddled  now  on  one  side,  now  on 
the  other.  "  I  sh'd  like  tu  put  him  raound  a 
spell." 

There  were  ducks  enough  scattered  among  the 
wild  rice  to  afford  fair  shooting,  though  the  great 
flocks  had  returned  to  their  daytime  haunts,  the 
dusky  ducks  to  float  on  the  wide  waters  of  the  lake 
or  to  bask  on  its  rocky  shores,  whither  the  teal  ac 
companied  them,  while  the  wood  ducks  congregated 
in  the  embowered  lagoons  of  Lewis  Creek,  the 
South  Slang,  and  Goose  Creek.  There,  in  listless 
enjoyment  of  seclusion,  they  swam  lazily  in  the 
shallow  pools,  checkering  the  green  scum  of  float 
ing  duck  weed  with  a  network  of  water  paths,  or 
sat  in  sleepy  rows  along  the  mossy  trunks  of  fallen 
trees,  oftener  disturbed  by  a  swooping  hawk  or 
prowling  fox  or  mink  than  by  man,  the  enemy  and 
destroyer  of  nature. 

Sam  marveled  at  the  celerity  with  which  his 
rival  made  his  shots,  only  missing  often  enough  to 
prove  that  there  was  no  magic  in  the  skill  which 
Sam  expressed  admiration  of,  in  spite  of  the  humil 
iation  of  seeing1  himself  so  far  outdone. 


A  SPOETSMAN.  105 

"  By  the  gre't  horn  spoon,  he 's  a  buster !  "  he 
exclaimed,  as  two  ducks,  rising  at  once  on  either 
side  of  the  channel,  responded  to  a  double  shot  with 
folded  wings  and  a  downright  fall.  "  But  I  sh'ld 
like  tu  try  him  a  hack  with  a  rifle." 

"Oh,  t'undur,  Ah '11  tol'  you  it  was  jes'  he's 
gaun,"  growled  Antoine  contemptuously.  "  'F 
Ah  '11  had  gaun  sem  lak  dat  Ah  '11  show  you,  me." 

"  I  s'pose  his  gun  does  ha'  suthin'  tu  du  with  it, 
but  I  swan  I  b'lieve  arter  the  ducks  git  him  1'arnt, 
they'd  jest  faint  away  and  tumble  daown  if  he 
p'inted  a  stick  at  'em." 

Sam  and  Antoine  ran  the  canoe  among  the 
rushes  under  the  willows  of  the  lower  landing 
alongside  the  craft  of  the  sportsman,  who  had  pre 
ceded  them  by  twenty  minutes  and  was  now  at  the 
foot  of  the  cliff  with  his  boatman  making  prepara 
tion  for  dinner,  the  first  plucking  a  fat  young  wood 
duck,  the  other  gathering  dry  fuel  out  of  the  abun 
dance  of  driftwood. 

"  Naow,  mister,"  said  Sam,  as  he  fed  his  admir 
ing  eyes  on  the  handsome  English  guns  whose  like 
he  had  never  seen  before  and  his  fingers  itched  to 
lay  hold  of,  "  why  don't  ye  come  up  tu  aour  fire  an' 
cook  your  dinner  ?  It  '11  save  ye  a  lot  o'  fussin', 
an'  Joseff  '11  be  mighty  glad  o'  them  feathers 
you're  a-wastin'.  He  come  a-feather  huntin',  least 
ways  he  's  a-savin'  of  'em  for  tu  keep  his  wife  good- 
natur'd.  Fetch  your  stuff  right  up  where  it 's 


106  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

handy  cookin'  an'  wo  '11  put  a  couple  o'  extry  taters 
in  the  kittle  for  ye." 

The  stranger  was  drawn  to  Sam  by  the  attrac 
tion  of  one  honest  sportsman  to  another,  and  there 
fore  nothing  loath  to  accept  the  invitation.  Carry 
ing  the  half-plucked  duck  in  one  hand  and  one 
of  the  guns  in  the  other,  and  followed  by  his  man 
carrying  a  covered  basket,  he  climbed  the  steep 
path  with  his  host  in  the  lead. 

They  found  the  camp  untenanted,  for  Uncle 
Lisha  and  Joseph  had  not  yet  returned  from  a 
land  expedition  along  the  shore  in  the  direction  of 
the  Slang  bridge,  upon  which  they  had  set  forth 
with  the  intention  of  stalking  ducks  in  the  pond 
holes  of  the  marsh  or  lying  in  wait  for  incoming 
flocks. 

Antoine  soon  had  a  fire  blazing  on  the  stone 
hearth,  which  he  shared  with  the  guest  in  the  prep 
aration  of  the  two  dinners.  The  gentleman  now 
proved  himself  a  thoroughly  accomplished  sports 
man,  for  when  his  end  of  the  fire  sank  to  a  glow 
ing  bed  of  coals  he  broiled  his  neatly  dressed  duck 
as  skillfully  as  he  had  killed  it,  and  its  delicate 
aroma  asserted  itself  above  the  grosser  odor  of 
Antoine's  cookery.  When  the  double  meal  was 
served  he  made  twofold  return  for  the  acceptable 
potatoes  in  dainties  from  his  basket,  and  when  all 
were  so  well  fed  that  necessity  of  providing  another 
meal  seemed  too  distant  to  be  worth  thinking  of, 


A   SPORTSMAN.  107 

he  passed  around  cigars  that  were  more  fragrant 
than  roses.  While  all  but  he  smoked  them  with 
the  awkwardness  of  unaccustomed  use,  he  half  won 
Sam's  heart  with  well-told  tales  of  his  shooting  ad 
ventures  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  completed 
the  conquest  by  interested  listening  to  Sam's 
stories. 

When  Sam  hinted  he  would  like  to  paddle  him 
up  the  South  Slang  the  offer  was  gladly  accepted. 
So  the  two  set  forth  in  the  sportsman's  boat,  leav 
ing  his  boatman  and  Antoine  to  amuse  themselves 
as  they  would,  an  arrangement  to  the  liking  of  both, 
as  it  gave  Antoine  an  opportunity  to  ask  many 
questions,  he  being  tormented  with  an  itching  curi 
osity  as  much  as  any  Yankee  ever  was,  and  the 
boatman,  a  lazy  fellow,  would  as  lief  be  paid  for 
doing  nothing  as  for  earning  his  money. 

Sam  plied  his  noiseless  paddle  with  right  good 
will  up  the  narrow  channel,  whose  brown  waters 
here  and  there  turned  sharply  in  its  almost  current- 
less  course  to  long  curved  or  straight  reaches  that 
ended  in  other  turns  among  the  rice  and  sedges. 
Now  there  would  be  a  stillness  that  was  absolute 
but  for  far-removed  sounds  of  farm  life  or  the  sky 
ward  scream  of  a  hawk,  a  mote  of  bronze  slowly 
circling  as  if  adrift  in  an  eddy  of  the  upper  air ;  or, 
nearer,  some  unseen  stir  of  life  among  the  rushes, 
the  slow  scratch  of  a  weed  against  the  boat's  side, 
or  the  smothered  gulp  of  a  disturbed  mud  fish 


108  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

beneath  the  prow.  Then  the  silence  was  broken 
suddenly  enough  to  startle  the  steadiest  nerves 
when,  splashing  and  fluttering,  squeaking  or  quack 
ing  in  wild  alarm,  wood  duck  or  dusky  duck  tore 
its  way  upward  through  its  tent  of  sedge  or  rice- 
stalks.  Then  the  ready  gun  made  its  quick  selec 
tion,  puffed  out  its  smoke  and  thunder,  answered 
itself  like  an  echo  with  a  second  report,  and  two 
ducks  dropped  back  limp  and  lifeless  within  the 
circling  wavelets  of  their  own  uprising,  while  the 
echoes  rebounded  between  the  wooded  shores,  and 
far  and  near  frightened  ducks  arose,  bitterns  took 
wing  with  guttural  squawks,  rails  set  up  a  clamor 
ous  cackle,  and  for  a  few  moments  the  marshes 
were  alive  with  noisy  commotion.  Then,  while  the 
echoes  died  in  the  distance,  the  ducks  settled  again 
in  the  marsh  before  or  behind  the  boat,  the  babble 
of  the  rails  ceased,  the  last  wads  were  driven  home 
with  a  diminuendo  of  hollow  thuds,  and  after  the 
sharp  click  of  the  recapped  locks,  the  silent  boat 
moved  011  into  a  new  silence,  again  and  again  to 
break  it.  Now  it  slid  under  the  low  span  of  a 
bridge,  now  came  to  the  mouth  of  Goose  Creek, 
almost  closed  between  its  jams  of  floating  bog  that 
undulated  with  the  boat's  wake  with  a  faint  rustle 
of  sedgy  swells.  As  the  craft  squeezed  its  way  up 
this  narrow  water  path,  here,  closed  by  a  movable 
island  of  bog  that  was  swung  aside  like  a  gate  to 
give  them  passage,  there,  crowded  by  a  tangled 


A  SPORTSMAN.  109 

jungle  of  button-bush,  the  hunters  saw  in  trodden 
ooze  and  the  windrows  of  shed  plumage  evidence 
of  the  throngs  of  waterfowl  that  made  this  natural 
fastness  their  nightly  resting-place.  There  were 
now  only  a  few  stragglers  —  early  to  bed  or  late  to 
rise  —  one  of  whom,  cut  down  at  long  range,  they 
had  infinite  trouble  to  retrieve  by  wading  over  the 
treacherous  bog. 

In  one  place  a  woodcock  had  bored  the  muddy 
margin  with  his  long  bill  and  chalked  it  with  his 
sign,  which  was  scarcely  noted  before  he  sprang 
with  a  twittering  whistle  and  was  cut  down  with  a 
snap  shot  of  the  alert  sportsman.  Then  for  the 
first  time  Sam  had  an  opportunity  to  admire  and 
closely  inspect  what  had  until  now  been  but  an 
elusive,  vanishing  myth,  and  wondered  why  his 
new  friend  should  gloat  more  over  this  little  bird 
than  over  a  great  duck.  Yet  he  himself  had  just 
declared  that  he  would  be  prouder  to  kill  a  wild 
goose  than  to  kill  a  bear,  as  much  to  the  astonish 
ment  of  the  other. 

They  followed  the  crooked  labyrinth  of  Goose 
Creek  till  it  forked  into  two  branches,  both  too 
narrow  to  give  passage  to  anything  bulkier  than  a 
duck  or  muskrat.  They  made  their  way  back  to 
the  Slang,  which  from  this  point  to  its  source  was 
the  eastern  boundary  of  a  large  tract  of  primeval 
forest,  a  level  sameness  of  gloomy  evergreen  woods. 

Where  the  channel   parted  in  two   unbeatable 


110  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

tributaries,  one  coming  out  of  the  cold  heart  of  the 
forest,  the  other  from  the  sunny  bosom  of  the 
fields,  the  Indians  had  made  their  camp.  A  num 
ber  of  stretched  muskrat  skins  were  hung-  about 
it,  the  thin  smoke  of  the  spent  fire  drifted  up 
among  the  hemlock  boughs,  the  canoe  was  drawn 
up  to  the  bank  with  its  two  paddles  stuck  in  the 
mud  beside  it,  and  the  two  Waubanakees,  full  heirs 
of  their  wild  forefathers'  laziness,  were  pottering 
indolently  over  some  piece  of  handicraft. 

"  They  're  a-makin'  a  canew,"  Sam  said,  after 
watching  them  a  little  ;  "  want  tu  go  an'  see  haow 
they  du  it  ? "  and  his  companion  assenting,  he 
turned  the  boat  inshore. 

The  Indians  were  aware  of  the  approach  of  vis 
itors,  but  gave  no  sign  of  it  when  the  boat  ran 
alongside  the  canoe  and  the  occupants  stepped 
ashore,  nor  did  they  till  the  duck-hunters  had  come 
close  to  them,  where  they  were  kneeling  on  a  patch 
of  hard-trodden  bare  earth.  Then  Sam's  old  ac 
quaintance  turned  his  good-humored  face  to  them 
a  moment  and  greeted  them  with  a  low-spoken 
"  Quiee,"  but  his  sullen  companion  did  not  lift  his 
eyes  from  his  work. 

The  top  frame  and  gunwales  and  cross  bars  of  a 
canoe  lay  on  the  leveled  piece  of  ground,  and  the 
Indians  were  driving  stakes  at  the  ends  and  at  the 
intersections  of  the  cross  bars.  Having  accom 
plished  this,  they  filled  and  lighted  their  pipes  and 


A   SPORTSMAN.  Ill 

deliberated  upon  the  next  step  to  be  taken  in  the 
task,  conversing  in  the  soft,  low  tones  of  their  own 
language.  At  last  he  of  the  sour  visage  picked  up 
a  hatchet  and  went  into  the  woods,  which  enfolded 
him  out  of  sight  in  their  shadowy  embrace  as  if  he 
belonged  to  them.  It  did  not  seem  likely  that  the 
white  men  were  to  see  more  of  the  art  of  canoe 
building  to-day.  So  Sam's  friend  bought  a  couple 
of  bows  and  a  half  a  dozen  arrows  for  his  two 
boys  :  waiting  till  Tocksoose  finished  the  last  with 
a  crooked  knife  which  he  held  with  his  palm  up 
and  drew  towards  him,  and  the  dexterous  use  of 
which  was  worth  seeing.  Then  they  reembarked 
and  set  forth  down  stream  as  the  shadows  of  the 
hemlocks  were  crawling  up  the  eastern  bank. 

"  Now,  Lovel,"  said  the  sportsman,  "  I  want  to 
show  you  that  I  can  handle  a  paddle  too,  so  give  it 
to  me  and  you  take  my  gun  and  see  how  it  suits 
you." 

Sam  was  as  happy  with  the  beautiful  gun  in  his 
hands  as  a  lover  with  his  sweetheart,  and  fondled  it 
with  as  much  delight,  sighting  it  on  various  inani 
mate  objects  and  trying  again  and  again  the  smooth 
elastic  movement  of  the  locks.  An  awkward 
splash  of  the  paddle,  that  was  for  the  most  part 
fairly  well  handled,  startled  a  duck  to  flight  at  long 
range,  and  Sam,  pottering  a  little  over  his  aim,  made 
a  clean  miss.  At  the  report,  one  nearer,  but  doz 
ing  over  his  crop  full  of  wild  rice,  floundered  to 


112  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

flight  through  the  rent  bower  of  sedges.  Sam 
covered  him  neatly,  but  his  finger  found  the  wrong 
trigger  and  there  was  only  a  hollow  snap  of  the 
empty  barrel.  Yet  he  kept  his  wits  enough  to 
make  a  second  trial,  and  the  big  dusky  drake  came 
down  with  a  downright  splash  that  told  of  sudden 
and  merciful  death. 

"  A  good  shot,"  was  the  sportsman's  commenda 
tion  as  he  turned  the  boat's  prow  into  the  weeds, 
but  Sam  was  not  very  proud  of  it  after  a  bad  miss 
and  a  worse  blunder. 

"  The  's  a'most  tew  many  trickers  for  my  fin 
gers,"  he  said  as  he  retrieved  the  dead  bird  with  an 
oar.  "  The  gun  can't  du  it  all,  if  it  is  an  almighty 
good  one.  It  wants  the  right  man  behind  it." 

"  It 's  got  a  very  good  one  there,"  the  gentleman 
said.  "  All  the  trouble  with  him  is  he  has  learned 
to  shoot  a  rifle  too  well  to  cut  loose  without  half 
taking  sight,  as  we  shotgun  fellows  do." 

So  few  ducks  had  come  in  since  the  up  stream 
passage  of  the  hunters  that  it  was  scarcely  worth 
while  to  be  on  the  watch  for  them,  and  they  both 
paddled  leisurely  down  the  channel,  chatting  as 
they  went,  while  the  one  smoked  his  fragrant  cigar, 
the  other  his  satisfying  pipe. 

"  How  would  you  like  the  life  of  our  red  brethren 
back  there  ?  "  the  sportsman  asked. 

"  Wai,  they  don't  appear  tu  be  fretted  much," 
said  Sam. 


A  SPORTSMAN.  113 

"  No,  they  're  contented ;  food  enough  for  to 
day  and  a  few  pipefuls  of  tobacco  ;  rich  with  a 
hundred  muskrat  skins.  Perhaps  it 's  the  happiest 
life  a  man  can  lead,  and  perhaps  the  happiest  is 
the  best." 

"Wai,  no,"  Sam  dissented.  "It'll  du  weU 
'nough  for  a  play  spell  naow  an'  ag'in  ;  but  it 
hain't  jest  the  sort  o'  life  for  a  stiddy  business, 
leastways  not  for  white  men.  Oh,  I  d'  know,  if  a 
man  had  n't  nob'dy  but  himself  and  things  had  n't 
gone  jest  right  with  him,  but  not  if  the'  's  anyb'dy 
'at  he  cares  for.  I  hev  wished  I  was  an  Injin, 
but  I  don't  naow.  An'  I  've  tried  it  tew,  for  a 
fortni't  runnin',  up  t'  other  Slang.  An'  it  beats  all 
haow  easy  a  man  settles  daown  tu  that  way  o'  livin', 
an'  I  b'lieve  a  man  's  consid'able  like  a  tame  fox  — 
oncte  he  gits  loose  he  gits  wild  ag'in  mighty  easy. 
I  feel  it  a-comin'  on  every  time  I  git  int'  the  woods, 
some  sight  or  some  smell  'at  you  can't  sca'cely  see 
ner  smell,  a-wakin'  up  suthiii'  that's  b'en  asleep 
sence  the  Lord  knows  when.  'T  waii't  in  my  fa 
ther,  an' .  I  do'  know 's  it  was  in  my  graii'ther,  only 
as  he  hed  tu  hunt  some  for  a  livin'.  'T  ain't  no 
wonder  'at  you  can't  tame  an  Injin  so  't  he  '11  stay 
tame,  wi'  a  hundered  generations  o'  wild  blood 
a-r'arin'  up  in  him  wus  'n  we  c'n  guess.  An' 
't  ain't  none  tew  easy  for  us  tu  quit  livin'  that  way 
arter  bein'  in  't  a  spell.  Why,  it 's  jelluk  leavin' 
the  hum  'at  I  was  born  in  an'  reared  in,  tu  clear 


114  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

aout  from  a  camp  'at  I  've  stayed  in  a  week,  an'  if 
I  come  acrost  it  arterwards  it  makes  me  feel  sort 
o'  lunsome."  He  blushed  through  his  sunburns 
and  laughed  a  little  bashfully  at  his  confession  of 
weakness,  but  the  smile  on  his  companion's  face 
was  sympathetic. 

"  Yes,  we  've  got  a  drop  of  the  old  wild  blood 
in  us,"  the  latter  said,  "  and  for  my  part  I  'm 
thankful  for  it,  and  I  don't  take  greatly  to  folks 
who  haven't  got  it  or  are  ashamed  of  it.  Of 
course  it  won't  do  to  let  it  get  the  better  of  us  all 
the  time,  for  there  is  n't  much  bread  and  butter  in 
it,  but  it  is  n't  best  to  smother  it  out.  It 's  good 
sauce  for  the  bread  and  butter." 

"  No,  it  won't  du,"  Sam  said  with  a  sigh  of  res 
ignation.  "  A  man  'at  don't  du  nothin'  much  but 
hunt  an'  fish  an'  trap  is  lierble  tu  be  a  pooty 
shif 'less  creetur' ;  clever  an'  good-natur'd  mebby, 
but  turrible  shif 'less.  Like  's  not  I  'd  ha'  be'n  one 
of  'em  myself  if  it  had  n't  ha'  be'n  fer  hevin'  a 
good  woman,  not  tew  sot,  but  reason'ble  in  goin' 
ag'n  it.  As  a  gin'al  thing  women  folks  'pears  tu 
be  kinder  onfavorable  tu  huntin'  an'  haoun'  dawgs 
an'  sech,  an'  I  d'  know  but  they  was  made  so  a 
puppus  tu  keep  us  kinder  in  baounds.  Then  ag'in 
the'  's  women  'at  it 's  enough  tu  drive  a  man  off  int' 
the  woods  tu  git  red  o'  their  everlastin'  hetchelin'." 

His  companion  laughed  and  began  to  speak,  but 
stopped  with  a  sudden  cautionary  "  Sh-h  — there 


A  SPORTSMAN.  115 

comes  a  flock  of  teal,"  as  lie  bent  low  and  turned 
the  boat  close  behind  a  tall  bunch  of  weeds. 
"  Give  me  my  gun,"  he  whispered,  and  just  as  he 
got  it  in  his  hands  the  swift-winged  little  ducks 
came  like  a  flash,  following  the  channel  as  if  it  was 
a  road,  till  at  sight  of  the  boat  they  swerved  away 
and  upward  from  it.  The  ready  gun  sprang  as 
quickly  to  the  shooter's  shoulder,  and  as  it  touched 
it  spat  out  its  double  report  and  six  dead  and 
wounded  birds  tumbled  out  of  the  thinned  ranks 
into  marsh  and  channel  in  a  rapid  succession  of 
splashes. 

When  the  game  was  picked  up  the  hunters  went 
on  to  the  mouth  of  the  Slang,  where  the  boat  was 
run  into  the  tall  weeds  to  await  the  evening  incom 
ing  of  the  ducks.  The  flight  was  already  begun, 
giving  as  frequent  shots  as  a  reasonable  man  could 
desire,  and  much  more  difficult  for  an  unpracticed 
hand  than  when  the  birds  were  flushed  from  the 
marshes. 

From  the  moment  when  a  flock  first  became 
visible,  like  a  dark  thread  drifting  up  from  the 
horizon  of  wooded  shores  beyond  the  Bay  of  the 
Vessels,  then  became  a  chain  of  motes,  and  the  first 
faint  sibilation  of  hurrying  wings  dawned  on  the 
hearing,  till  it  grew  loud  and  emphatic,  and  every 
advancing  form  became  a  distinct  bird,  there  was 
time  enough  for  nerves  to  be  steadied  and  gun  to 
be  ready,  but  not  to  find  an  easy  mark  in  the 


116  UNCLE  LISUA'S  OUTING. 

strong-winged  fowl,  sweeping  past  with  the  impetus 
gained  in  two  miles  of  flight  with  a  favoring  breeze. 
Not  every  one  of  the  sportsman's  shots  brought 
down  its  bird,  for  now  and  then  there  was  an  un 
mistakable  miss,  and  sometimes  when  a  chance  was 
taken  at  long  range  the  pellets  could  be  heard  pat 
tering  against  the  thick  plumage,  yet  the  stout  bird 
swept  on  in  uninterrupted  flight. 

The  shooter  showed  neither  impatience  when  he 
made  an  ineffectual  shot  nor  exultation  when  with 
more  frequent  occurrence  the  stricken  bird  came 
down  in  a  curved  slant  and  plunged  through 
weeds  and  water  to  its  last  alighting.  After  a 
while  he  gave  the  gun  to  Sam,  who,  profiting  by 
instruction  and  experience,  made  some  shots  good 
enough  to  afford  consolation  for  the  bad  ones,  and 
then  they  quit  their  ambuscade  and  paddled  down 
to  the  landing  under  the  willows. 

The  last  sunlight  was  on  the  eastern  mountains 
and  the  sportsman  made  haste  to  depart  on  his 
homeward  voyage,  he  and  Sam  parting  with  a 
mutual  desire  for  further  acquaintance  and  future 
days  of  sport  together. 

"  Say,  Sam,"  Antoine  whispered  eagerly,  burst 
ing  with  news  he  could  scarcely  contain  till  the 
others  were  out  of  hearing,  "  you  '11  ant  ast  it,  did 
you  ?  You  '11  ant  know  who  he  was, 'ant  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Sam,  "  I  did  n't  ask  him  no  ques 
tions." 


A  SPORTSMAN.  117 

"  Wai,  sell,  bah  gosh,  lie  was  be  de  biggest  1'yer 
dey  was  in  Vairgeniie.  Dat  feller  tol'  me." 

"  Git  aout  Antwine,"  said  Sam,  "  lie  hain't  no 
liar.  He's  abaout  as  nice  a  man  as  ever  I  see." 

"  Oh,  Sam,  ant  you  oii'stan'  Angleesh  ?  Ah  '11 
ant  say  he  lie,  but  he  big  1'yer.  He  goin'  be 
judge,  prob'ly  gov'ner,  mebby." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   WILD    GOOSE   CHASE. 

UNCLE  LISHA  and  Joseph  set  forth  in  the  belt 
of  trees  that  shaded  the  west  bank  of  Little  Otter 
from  the  Slab  Hole  to  the  South  Slang,  so  intent 
upon  the  performance  of  doughty  deeds  that  they 
skulked  with  bent  backs  till  the  ache  could  be 
endured  no  longer,  and  with  a  loud  sigh  of  relief 
they  straightened  up  just  at  the  very  time  and 
place  to  disclose  themselves  to  a  flock  of  ducks 
that  were  enjoying  the  seclusion  of  a  marsh-locked 
pool.  Startled  by  the  sound  and  the  sudden  appa 
rition  of  human  forms  arising  within  forty  paces  of 
their  retreat,  the  ducks  sprang  into  the  air  with  a 
simultaneous  splash  and  vociferous  outcry  of  alarm. 
In  no  less  surprise  the  two  gunners  stood  gaping 
at  the  retreating  flock,  then  with  one  accord  they 
squatted  with  lowered  heads  till  the  whistle  of 
departing  wings  grew  faint  in  the  distance,  and 
then  turned  their  humiliated  faces  full  upon  each 
other. 

"  Sam  Hill !  "  Joseph  ejaculated,  "  what  a  chance 
it  seems  's  'ough  we  'most  lied." 


A   WILD   GOOSE  CHASE.  119 

"  What  a  couple  o'  dumb'd  dodunks  we  be, 
more  like !  "  Uncle  Lisha  responded  in  intense  dis 
gust.  "  Naow  le  's  go  'long  an'  use  aour  eyes  an' 
act  as  if  ducks  had  some  tew." 

With  this  determination  they  proceeded,  yet 
more  cautiously,  stopping  frequently  to  examine 
the  marsh  before  them,  with  heads  as  gradually 
uplifted  as  grass  rises  after  the  pressure  of  the 
foot.  At  last  they  discovered  a  pool  similar  to 
the  one  at  which  they  had  exposed  themselves  so 
unwarily,  and  a  careful  reconnoissance  disclosed  a 
flock  of  twenty  or  more  dusky  ducks  taking  their 
ease  on  the  reed-hedged  pool,  some  asleep,  their 
broad  bills  resting  on  their  round  breasts,  others 
leisurely  sounding  the  shallows  with  elongated 
necks  for  choice  tidbits,  while  a  few  alert  old 
drakes  carried  their  wise  heads  high,  in  constant 
vigilance. 

The  hunters  squatted  for  a  brief,  whispered  plan 
of  attack,  and,  having  arranged  it,  moved  forward, 
stooping  low,  to  occupy  the  spot  selected  for  the 
onslaught.  There  was  one  place  in  the  line  of 
approach  where  the  screen  of  weeds  was  so  low 
that  it  could  only  be  passed  without  discovery  by 
crawling,  and  when  it  was  reached  the  hunters 
went  on  all  fours,  —  not  on  hands  and  knees,  but 
on  hands  and  feet,  —  hitching  their  prone  guns 
along  step  by  step.  Now,  though  their  heads  were 
quite  out  of  sight  of  the  ducks  and  the  ducks 


120  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

unseen  by  them,  their  posteriors  were  fully  exposed 
to  the  view  of  the  vigilant  sentinels,  who,  at  the 
sight  of  these  two  strange  objects  undulating  slowly 
forward  above  the  tops  of  the  rushes,  at  once 
sounded  the  alarm,  and  the  whole  flock  sprang  to 
wing  with  an  uproar  of  splashing,  fluttering,  and 
quacking. 

The  unlucky  hunters  halted  without  a  change  of 
posture,  and  listened  in  dismayed  silence  till  the 
tumult  of  departure  had  subsided,  before  they  ven 
tured  to  drop  upon  their  knees  and  look  in  the  di 
rection  from  which  the  sound  of  retreat  had  come. 
Then  they  arose  and  gazed  upon  the  deserted  pool, 
whose  nearest  semblance  to  life  was  in  a  few  scat 
tered  feathers  drifting  across  the  quiet  space. 

"  Wai  "  -  Uncle  Lisha  exhaled  the  word,  after 
holding  his  breath  a  long  time  —  "I  sh'd  like  to 
know  what  on  this  livin'  airth  scairt  them  'ere 
ducks.  They  never  seen  nor  heard  us,  that  's 
sartain." 

"  I  swan  to  man,  I  do'  know,"  Joseph  said, 
"  erless  they  smelt  us,  an'  it  don't  sca'cely  seem  's 
'ough  sech  tough-nosed  critters  could  smell  much 
anyway.  But  I  d'  know.  S-s-s-s-h  !  See  that  'ere 
tormented  gre't  hen-hawk  ?  Mebby  it  was  him 
scart  'em.  H-s-s-h ! "  He  sank  his  voice  to  a 
whisper  as  a  marsh  hawk  came  cruising  low  along 
the  rushy  level  in  such  intent  quest  of  game  that  he 
did  not  see  the  two  motionless  figures,  and  then 


A   WILD  GOOSE  CHASE.  121 

with  an  upward  slant  alighted  on  a  dead  treetop 
within  close  range,  still  scanning  the  marsh  and 
unconscious  of  danger,  while  Joseph  cautiously  got 
his  gun  ready  and  took  deliberate,  deadly  aim. 
As  his  executioner  staggered  backward  from  the 
recoil  of  the  deadly  charge,  the  pirate  tumbled  from 
his  lookout  and  fell  with  a  swift,  feathery  thud 
on  the  hard  margin  of  the  shore,  where  Joseph 
pounced  upon  him  in  utter  recklessness  of  beak 
and  talons  that  still  attempted  revenge  or  defense. 

"  Gosh  darn  him !  "  he  groaned,  as  the  talons  of 
one  foot  closed  in  a  dying  clutch  upon  his  wrist, 
and  then,  as  he  strove  to  loosen  it  with  the  free 
hand,  that  also  was  caught  by  the  other  foot. 
Then  the  bird's  head  drooped,  the  fire  of  his  eyes 
went  out,  but  the  death  grip  of  his  talons  was  not 
relaxed,  and  Joseph,  helplessly  manacled,  turned 
to  Uncle  Lisha  for  relief. 

"  Wai,  you  be  in  a  fix.  But  I  could  n't  help 
a-laughin'  if  it  was  a-killin'  ye." 

Joseph  could  see  no  cause  for  laughter,  as  the 
claws  were  withdrawn  one  by  one,  accompanying 
each  withdrawal  by  a  groan  or  a  suppressed 
"  S-s-s-s-p." 

"  You  're  as  bad  off  as  the  feller  'at  ketched  the 
bear,"  Uncle  Lisha  remarked,  as  he  deliberately 
performed  the  surgery.  "  Ye  see,  he  follered  a 
bear  track  intu  a  hole,  an'  the  feller  'at  was 
a-huiitin'  along  with  him  he  stayed  aoutside.  '  I  've 


122  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

ketched  a  bear,'  lie  hollered  from  inside.  '  All 
right,'  says  t'  other  feller  '  fetch  him  aout  an'  le'  's 
see  him.'  '  I  can't  fetch  him,'  says  he.  '  Wai,' 
says  t'  other  feller,  '  come  aout  yourself.'  '  I  can't,' 
says  he,  '  he 's  got  a  holt  on  me  an'  won't  let  me,' 
says  he.  There,  naow,  I  've  got  ye  onhooked." 

With  an  unaccustomed  display  of  temper  Joseph 
seized  the  hawk  by  the  legs  and  repeatedly  banged 
the  lifeless  head  against  the  nearest  tree. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas !  What  ye  duin'  that 
for  ?  He  's  deader  'n  a  smelt." 

"  Wai,"  said  Joseph,  looking  rather  foolish  as 
the  heat  of  his  wrath  abated,  "  I  kinder  thought 
mebby  I  'd  better  let  him  onderstan'  'at  the'  's  a 
herearter  for  hawks  jes'  's  much  as  the'  is  for  other 
folks.  I  'm  a  good  min'  ter  give  him  another  polt. 
Dum  him.  Haow  he  hurt  my  wris's.  Why,  he 
hain't  nothin'  but  feathers  !  "  he  exclaimed,  when 
he  had  taken  time  to  try  "  the  heft  "  of  his  prize. 
"  You  might  nigh  abaout  chuck  him  right  intu  a 
bed  jest  as  he  is,  seems  's  'ough.  Anyways,  he  's 
wuth  a-hevin'." 

While  reloading  his  gun  he  proposed  lying  in  wait 
by  this  pool  for  whatever  might  chance  to  come  to 
it,  but  Uncle  Lisha  longed  for  fresh  fields  of  con 
quest  and  also  thirsted  for  a  draught  of  drinkable 
water,  which  he  hoped  to  find  at  some  spring,  and 
so  marched  along  the  bank,  leaving  his  companion 
to  conduct  alone  his  own  plan  of  the  campaign. 


A    WILD  GOOSE  CHASE.  123 

Joseph  seated  himself  comfortably  on  a  log  close 
to  the  tallest  weeds  and  did  not  wait  long  before  a 
bittern  came  flapping  lazily  over  the  marsh  and 
alighted  in  the  edge  of  the  pool.  He  had  never  had 
so  near  a  view  of  one  and  knew  not  what  manner 
of  fowl  it  might  be,  but  it  looked  worth  killing 
cither  for  picking  or  eating.  So  he  trained  his  gun 
upon  it,  and  at  the  discharge  it  wilted  down  like  a 
lopped  weed.  When  with  some  difficulty  he  drew 
it  within  reach  by  the  aid  of  a  pole,  he  was  some 
what  disappointed  in  its  weight,  but  he  said  to  him 
self  :  - 

"  It  looks  nigh  'nough  like  one  o'  them  'ere  new 
fangled  Hang-shy  rwusters  tu  be  jes'  's  good  t'  eat, 
which  it  hain't  sayin'  no  gre't  for  it,  an'  then  the'  's 
the  feathers,  what  the'  is  on  'em,  so  I  guess  I  hain't 
done  so  bad  arter  all,  don't  seem  's  'ough  I  hed." 

He  had  scarcely  composed  himself  to  another 
season  of  waiting  when  he  was  startled  by  the  roar 
of  Uncle  Lisha's  gun,  and  after  a  vain  attempt  to 
repress  his  curiosity  shouldered  his  gun  and  game 
and  hastened  forward  to  learn  the  result  of  a  shot 
so  loud  that  he  felt  sure  it  must  have  achieved 
something  great. 

Uncle  Lisha  had  not  gone  a  furlong  alone  when 
he  came  upon  another  patch  of  open  water,  where 
he  saw  a  flock  of  large  fowl,  alarmed  at  his 
approach,  crowding  into  a  watery  path  that  ran 
channel  ward  into  the  depths  of  the  marsh.  He 


124  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

managed  to  get  a  slow  aim  upon  the  entrance  just 
as  the  last  bird  was  disappearing  in  it  and  fired. 
There  was  a  clamor  of  consternation,  a  wild  scurry 
through  the  rushes,  but  the  nearest  bird  only  beat 
the  sedges  convulsively  with  its  broad  pinions  for 
a  moment  and  then  stretched  lifeless  head  and 
wings  upon  the  bending  weeds.  When  Uncle 
Lisha  realized  how  grand  a  feat  he  had  accom 
plished  he  could  hardly  withhold  a  shout  of  exulta 
tion,  and  when  Joseph  came  panting  upon  the  scene 
he  let  it  out  in  a  great  roar. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  Jozeff,  I  hev  act'ally  shot 
a  wil'  goose,  I  du  b'lieve  !  " 

"  Sam  Hill,  you  hain't,  Uncle  Lisher,"  cried  Jo 
seph,  standing  on  tiptoe  and  craning  his  neck  to 
the  utmost.  "  Not  a  ra'al  wild  goose,  you  don't 
mean.  Wai,  I  snore,  if  it  don't  look  like  one, 
seems  's  'ough,  jest  as  true  as  you  live !  " 

"  Why,  of  course  he  's  a  wil'  goose,  er  was. 
He 's  tame  'nough  now,  though,"  said  Uncle  Lisha, 
with  proud  assurance.  "  An'  naow  we  got  tu  git 
him.  I  s'pose  the  mud 's  more  'n  forty  foot  deep 
aout  there,  but  I  '11  git  him  if  I  hafter  stay  here  till 
the  ma'sh  freezes.  Naow  le'  's  git  some  slabs  an' 
things  an'  lay  aout  tu  him." 

Laying  aside  their  guns,  they  brought  slabs  and 
boards  with  which  the  spring  floods  had  plentifully 
strewn  the  shore,  and  with  no  little  labor  bridged 
the  treacherous  marsh,  till  Joseph,  a  little  the 


A    WILD   GOOSE  CHASE.  125 

lighter  and  the  least  clumsy  of  the  two,  gained  an 
unstable  footing  to  the  prize,  which  he  lifted,  and, 
cautiously  edging  his  way  along  the  narrow  cause 
way,  bore  it  to  the  shore. 

"  There,"  he  said,  plumping  the  gray  goose 
down  at  the  feet  of  its  slayer,  who  squatted  before 
it,  caressing  it  and  feeding  his  eyes  upon  it,  "  I 
don't  b'lieve  I  wanter  kerry  it  on  such  a  rhud  no 
furder.  It  don't  seem  's  'ougii  I  would,  tu  hev  it, 
not  sca'cely." 

"  Wai,  I  would,  clean  tu  Dan  vis  !  Good  airth 
an'  seas,  won't  it  make  Samwil  an'  Ann  Twine's 
eyes  stick  aout  when  they  see  it,  an'  them  a-shootin' 
nothin'  but  leetle  insi'nificant  ducks.  But  there 
ain't  no  two  ways  'baout  it,  I  got  tu  ha'  some 
water,  er  choke  tu  death.  Le'  's  go  over  tu  that 
'ere  haouse  and  git  us  a  drink  an'  then  mog  along 
back  to  camp.  Why,  it 's  the  haouse  where  Sam 
wil  left  the  hosses  tu.  They  're  sorter  neighbors, 
an'  I  da'  say  it  will  please  'em  tu  see  this  'ere 
faowl,  for  it  hain't  ev'ry  day  'at  folks  gits  a  chance 
tu  look  at  a  wil'  goose  clus  tu.  Why,  what 's  that 
'ere  you  got  beside  your  hen-hawk  ?  Come  to 
think  on  't  I  did  hear  ye  shoot  ag'in."  In  the  ela 
tion  of  his  own  success  he  had  not  noticed  the  addi 
tion  to  Joseph's  bunch  of  game,  nor  had  Joseph,  in 
the  midst  of  excitement  and  labor,  thought  to  call 
attention  to  it. 

"  That 's   more  'n    I  can  tell   ye.     That  is,  for 


126  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

sart'in.  He  looks  consid'able  like  one  o'  these  'ere 
Hang-shy  rhusters,  but  I  don't  s'pose  he  is  sca'cely, 
'cause  I  never  hearn  tell  on  'em  a-rimnm'  wiT  as  I 
remember  on.  Mebby  it 's  one  'at  got  strayed  off 
f'm  hum." 

"  Wai,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  after  a  critical  exam 
ination  of  the  bird  through  his  glasses,  "  I  cal'late 
it  's  a  mud  hen." 

"Mebby  it 's  a  mud  rhuster,"  Joseph  suggested. 

'  I  could  n't  say  of  which  sect,  but  of  that 
spechy.  Wai,  le'  's  be  a-moggin',  for  I  be  dryer  'n 
a  graven  image,  so  't  I  can't  spit  'nough  tu  enj'y  a 
smoke." 

Thereupon  they  assumed  their  burdens  and 
trudged  across  the  fields  to  the  farmhouse,  which 
stood  foremost  in  a  straggling  village  of  outbuild 
ings.  In  response  to  Uncle  Lisha's  knock  at  the 
open  kitchen  door,  a  pleasant-looking  woman  came 
out  of  a  cloud  of  fragrant  steam  that  arose  from 
a  brass  kettle  of  cider  apple  sauce  upon  the  stove. 
She  wore  a  blue  sock  on  her  left  arm  like  an  im 
provised  mitten,  but  the  needle  caught  into  the 
heel  and  a  dangling  loop  of  thread  showed  that  she 
employed  the  intervals  of  watching  her  cookery  in 
darning  the  family  footwear. 

"  Good  arternoon,  inarm,"  said  Uncle  Lisha. 
"  We  stopped  in  tu  see  if  we  could  n't  git  a  drink 
o'  water." 

She  looked  the  visitors  over  a  moment  to  assure 


A    WILD   GOOSE  CHASE.  127 

herself  whether  they  were  of  the  sort  to  be  served 
with  a  tin  dipper  or  a  pitcher  and  glass,  and  then, 
removing  the  sock  as  she  went  into  the  pantry, 
presently  returned  with  the  daintier  service,  which 
the  old  man's  honest  and  respectable  face  seemed 
to  warrant  in  spite  of  his  shabby  clothes. 

"  That  'ere  's  turrible  good  water  for  the  time 
o'  —  for  this  part  o'  the  country.  We  be'n  a-hunt- 
in',''  he  continued,  as  he  held  the  glass  to  be  re 
filled  the  third  time.  "  We  be'n  a-huntin'  an'  got 
tormented  dry.  It 's  turrible  dry  work  a-huntin', 
partic'ly  when  you  're  all  the  time  in  sight  o'  water 
't  you  can't  drink.  An'  I  do'  know  but  what  it 
makes  a  feller  drier  tu  shoot  a  wil'  goose.  I  do' 
know  as  you  ever  see  one."  He  lifted  his  trophy 
from  where  he  had  dropped  it  in  careless  con- 
spicuity  and  held  it  up  before  her. 

"  Why,  you  done  well,  did  n't  you,"  the  matron 
said.  "  'T  ain't  often  folks  gits  'em.  But  I  've 
seen  'em  afore.  Aour  folks  ketched  one  oncte  an' 
we  kep'  him  tew,  three  year,  I  guess,  an'  he  mated 
along  with  aour  tame  geese  an'  we  've  got  one  o' 
the  mixtur'  yit.  Why  !  "  with  the  final  exclama 
tion  the  expression  of  pleased  curiosity  in  her  face 
hardened  to  one  of  unpleasant  surprise.  "  You  jes' 
le'  me  look  o'  his  neck,"  and  laying  hold  of  it 
and  raising  the  feathers  she  disclosed  a  red  string 
tied  around  it,  at  sight  of  which  Uncle  Lisha's 
heart  sank  with  a  sickening  qualm. 


128  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "  you  've  be'n  an'  killed 
aour  ol'  half-bred  garnder.  Be  you  some  o'  the 
folks  that 's  a  campin'  daown  here  ?  " 

"  Yis,  marm." 

"  Well,  I  guess  Mr.  Harris  '11  be  raound  there 
and  settle  with  you  for  killin'  of  his  garnder.  He 
sot  consid'able  by  him." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas  !  "  Uncle  Lisha  whispered 
in  a  suppressed  roar,  as  if  he  feared  that  he  might 
be  heard  at  camp.  "  Don't  for  massy  sake  let  him 
come  raound  there  talkin'  abaout  my  shoo  tin'  of 
his  goose.  Where  is  your  man  ?  I  c'n  settle  with 
him  for  't  right  here.  You  go  an'  fetch  him." 

Mrs.  Harris  hesitated  a  moment  in  fear  that 
they  might  depart  in  her  absence,  then  bustled 
away  and  presently  was  heard  calling  her  husband 
in  the  back  yard.  Then  their  voices  were  heard 
approaching  in  low  dialogue  till  Mr.  Harris  ap 
peared  entering  the  kitchen  from  the  rear.  He 
was  a  large,  raw-boned  man,  his  shoulders  stooped 
with  excessive  labor,  his  fingers  hooked  like  claws 
ready  to  pounce  upon  a  hard  task  or  an  elusive 
shilling,  while  his  broad  coarse  face  strove  to  put 
on  a  mask  of  guileless  good  humor.  He  greeted 
them  as  if  they  were  all  old  friends,  grinning  more 
effusively,  Uncle  Lisha  thought,  than  the  situation 
seemed  to  warrant. 

"  Du,  sir,"  Uncle  Lisha  responded,  and  pro 
ceeded  at  once  to  business.  "  My  name  's  Lisher 


A    WILD  GOOSE  CHASE.  129 

Paiggs,  an'  this  'ere  's  my  neighbor,  Jozcff  Hill,  an' 
we  live  tu  Dan  vis  when  we  're  tu  hum.  Jes'  naow 
we  're  a-campin'  over  here.  We  don't  make  a  busi 
ness  goin'  raound  killin'  folks'  poultry  as  a  gin'al 
thing,  but  it  'pears  we  hev  your  'n,  and  naow  we 
want  tu  settle  for  't.  What  d'  ye  cal'late  the  life 
o'  your  goose  is  wuth  ?  We  don't  want  the  car- 
kiss." 

"  Wai,  I  d'  know,"  Mr.  Harris  pondered,  with 
a  subsiding  grin.  "  Come  in  and  sed  daown. 
'T  won't  cost  ye  notliin'.  Won't  ye  ?  Wai,  I  don' 
know  ezackly.  That  'ere  was  a  tumble  goose  tu 
lay  an'  take  care  o'  goslin's.  I  never  see  sech 
a"- 

"  Mr.  Harris,"  his  wife  said  in  a  severe  under 
tone. 

"  As  I  ever  see  sech  a  case  for  layin'  an'  carin' 
for  goslin's  as  she  was." 

t'  Mr.  Harris,"  his  wife  said  in  a  deeper  tone  of 
reproof,  and  covertly  punched  him  in  the  back,  "  it 
hain't  a  goose  ;  it 's  a  garnder." 

"Hey,"  gasped  Mr.  Harris,  his  smile  fading  out, 
but  as  quickly  returning.  "  Why,  yis,  land,  yis ; 
so  't  is.  But  I  tell  ye  what,  Mis'  Harris  she  sot  a 
tumble  sight  by  him,  I  tell  ye." 

"Wai,  wal,"  and  the  old  man  spoke  a  little  im 
patiently,  "  it  don't  make  no  diffunce  haow  much 
your  garnder  laid  or  your  womern  sot.  What 
I  wanter  know  is  what  he  was  wuth  a-livin'  an' 


130  UNCLE  LISHA'S 

haow  much  he  's  wuth  dead,  an'  I  '11  pay  ye  the 
diffunce  pervided  I  c'n  raise  the  money,''  and  he 
drew  from  his  pocket  the  heart  case  which  served 
him  as  a  purse. 

•'  ~\Val,  naow.  I  don't  know ;  le'  me  see,*'  said 
Mr.  Harris,  weighing  the  goose  in  his  hand  and 
feeling  its  breast.  ';  He  hain't  turrible  meaty,  and 
I  carc'late  he  '11  be  tougher  'n  tripe,  an'  it  '11  cost 
abaout  as  much  tu  chaw  him  as  he  's  wuth.  Then 
ag'in,  lookin'  at  it  from  a  opposite  p'int  o"  view, 
he  was  lierble  to  continer  a-livin'  a  consid'able 
number  o'  years,  which  he  was  the  more  valuable 
in  that  respeck." 

"  The'  's  the  feathers  !  ''  Joseph  suggested,  with 
a  view  to  bettering  his  friend's  bargain.  "  The'  's 
an  awful  snarl  o*  feathers  on  that  'ere  goose,  which 
it  seems  as  'ough  they  'cl  ortu  be  took  accaount  on 
in  the  trade.  Xaow  if  you  was  a  min'  tu  call  it 
even,  I  do'  know  but  I  *d  be  willin'  tu  throw  in 
this  "ere  faowl  'at  I  got."  He  held  up  the  bittern 
before  Mr.  Harris,  who  viewed  it  at  first  with 
wonder,  then  with  intense  disgust,  which  his  bland 
smile  could  not  conceal  as  he  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Land,  what  be  you  a-goin'  tu  du  with  that 
plaguey  stake  driver?  Xo,  I  guess  I  don't  want 
him.  I  "11  tell  ye  what,  Mr.  Peggs,  seein'  it 's  you 
an'  you  're  a  stranger,  you  gi'  me  a  half  dollar  an' 
we  '11  call  it  square." 

Uncle  Lisha  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  empty- 


.1    WILD   GOOSE  CHASE.  131 

iug  the  heart  case  into  his  palm  he  sorted  out  the 
requisite  sum  from  the  handful  of  ninepence  and 
fourpence  half-penny  bits,  cents,  and  half  cents 
which  had  been  gathered  in  the  mending  of  many 
boots  and  shoes.  Mr.  Harris  counted  the  much 
divided  half  dollar  over  twice  and  carefully  scru 
tinized  a  doubtful  penny  of  Canadian  coinage 
before  he  reluctantly  acknowledged  the  payment  of 
the  debt,  and  Uncle  Lisha  felt  free  to  depart  with 
out  the  trophy  which  he  had  borne  hither  in  the 
pride  of  his  heart.  Now  as  he  trudged  back  to 
camp  empty-Banded,  while  Joseph  bore  his  own 
spoils  in  humbleness  of  spirit,  he  spoke  but  once 
and  then  only  with  heartfelt  emphasis :  — 

'•  Damn  the  goose  !  " 

They  found  the  tent  and  its  environs  silent  and 
deserted,  and  after  appeasing  their  hunger  with  a 
cold  bite  Joseph  sat  down  to  pluck  his  fowls.  He 
had  not  been  long  so  employed  upon  the  bittern 
when  Antoine  and  the  boatman  came  strolling  up 
from  the  landing. 

"  What  you  goin'  do  wid  dat  t'ing  ?  "  Antoine 
asked,  after  curiously  watching  him  a  few  mo 
ments. 

k'  "Wai,"  said  Joseph,  as  he  carefully  plucked  out 
the  last  feathers,  "  I  kinder  thought  arter  I  'd  got 
the  feathers  saved,  I  'd  take  an'  dress  it  an'  cook  it 
an'  see  haow  it  'ould  eat,  jes'  for  the  fun  on  't." 

Antoine  wrenched  his  ulterior  with  a  groan  of 


132  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

intense  disgust,  and,  snatching  the  bird  from  Jo 
seph's  hands,  tossed  it  away  with  all  his  might. 
The  lank  form,  with  neck  and  legs  asprawl,  went 
clattering  through  leaves  and  bushes  in  a  great 
curve,  till  it  was  lost  to  sight,  and  was  heard  to  fall 
with  a  dull  final  thud  on  the  sands  below  the  cliff. 

"  Dar,  dat  was  de  bes'  way  for  cook  up  dat  kan' 
o'  vittle.  You  '11  was  cook  some  bowfins  one  tarn, 
but  you  '11  ant  goin'  for  stink  de  fire  wid  dat  mud 
hens,  bah  gosh,  no." 

Joseph's  eyes  followed  this  last  featherless  flight 
of  the  bittern  and  dwelt  a  while  on  the  point  of  its 
disappearance  before  he  turned  upon  the  Canadian 
and  said  reproachfully,  but  without  a  trace  of  anger 
in  his  even  drawl :  — 

"  Naow,  Aiitwinc,  seems  tu  me  that  'ere  is  a 
'tarnal  mean  kind  o'  caper,  an'  I  do'  know  but 
what  I  'd  ortu  take  an'  fling  ye  ov'  the  laidge  arter 
the  bird,  but  it  might  kinder  break  frien'ship,  an' 
I  guess  I  won't.  But  I  mus'  say  it  sorter  seems  tu 
me  'at  for  a  feller  'at  cooks  eels  an'  mud  turkles, 
an'  I  do'  know  but  frawgs,  you  be  dumb  pertic'lar, 
an',  as  you  might  say,  nicer  'n  you  be  wise." 

«  Wai,  seh,  Zhozeff ,  Ah  dun'  know  'f  Ah  '11  ant 
prob'ly  'd  ought  for  tol'  you  'fore  Ah  t'row  it," 
Antoine  said  apologetically,  "  but,  sah,  if  you  '11 
heat  dat  t'ing  he  was  mek  you  sick  lak  hoi'  dev'. 
You  '11  ant  goin'  heat  dat  hawk,  ant  it  ?  "  he  asked, 
as  Joseph  drew  the  bird  toward  him  with  evident 
intention  of  plucking  it. 


A    WILD   GOOSE  CHASE.  133 

"  It  hain't  sartain  but  what  I  will  if  I  seem 
tu  hanker  arter  sech  victuals,"  Joseph  answered ; 
"  but  anyways,  if  you  hain't  no  objections  I  'm 
a-goin'  tu  save  the  feathers,  which  is  what  I  'm 
arter  in  partic'lar." 

"  Naow,  Zhozeff,  Ah  '11  goin'  tol'  you  de  trut'," 
Antoine  said,  with  impressive  seriousness  and  an 
accompaniment  of  emphatic  gestures.  "  If  you  put 
de  hawk  fedder  wid  de  dawk  fedder  he  heat  it  all 
up." 

"Sho',  Antwine?" 

"  Dat  jes'  as  true  as  Frenchmans  heat  onion," 
Antoine  asserted  in  the  face  of  Joseph's  incredulous 
stare.  "  Wait  for  Ah  '11  goin'  tol'  you.  One  tarn 
Ah  '11  was  leetly  boy  an'  leeve  in  Canada,  mah 
mudder  was  mek  it  some  bed .  fedder  of  geese's 
fedder  an'  she  was  gat  it  mos'  all  stuff  up  but  leetly 
maght  he  ant  gat  nough  fedder.  Den  mah  fader 
was  keel  two  hawk  was  come  raoun'  for  ketch  de 
chicklin,  an'  mah  mudder  was  pull  de  fedder  for 
feenish  his  bed  of  it.  It  was  very  nice  plump  beds, 
an'  dey  keep  it  for  de  bes'  one  for  w'en  company 
come  see  it,  an'  nex'  year  mah  gran'pere  an'  gran.'- 
mere  come  for  visit  all  iiaght,  an',  sell,  gran'- 
mere  was  gre't  big  hoi'  hwomans,  an'  w'en  he 
come  on  de  room  in  de  morny  he  was  r-r-r-rubby, 
r-r-r-rubby  hesef  an'  grunt  very  hard,  an'  w'en  mah 
mudder  ax  it  what  de  matter,  she  say  de  bed  rope 
cut  him  all  in  chonk,  'cause  de  bed  fedder  was 


134  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING, 

so  t'in,  an'  mah  mudder  was  supprise  mos'  for  be 
mad  for  have  it  say  so  'baout  liees  bes'  bed,  but 
w'en  he  ex-amine  he  fin'  honly  de  hawk  fedder,  de 
res'  it  was  all  heat  up.  Yas,  sah,  Zhozeff,  dat  jes' 
true  you  leeve." 

"  Wai,"  said  Joseph,  continuing  the  employment 
which  he  had  still  pursued  while  listening  to  the 
story,  "  I  c'n  keep  'em  sep'rit  an'  put  'em  in  a 
piller.  Mebby  if  a  feller  slep'  on  it  't  'ould  keep 
him  f'm  bein'  hen-pecked  nights." 

When  Sam  returned  and  the  sportsman  and  his 
oarsman  had  departed,  a  hot  supper  was  prepared 
and  eaten,  after  which  the  party  sat  around  the 
cheerful  campfire  and  recounted  the  day's  adven 
tures,  from  which  were  judiciously  eliminated  the 
episodes  of  Joseph's  encounter  with  the  hawk  and 
Uncle  Lisha's  goose  shooting. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MUD   TURTLE. 

IN  the  morning,  when  eating  breakfast,  no  plans 
were  laid  for  spending-  the  day,  and  after  the  meal 
no  one  made  the  usual  preparation  for  departure, 
but  all  idled  about  the  camp  as  if  without  a  present 
object  in  life  but  the  mere  pleasure  of  existence. 

The  day  was  one  to  invite  indolence,  the  sun 
bathing  the  earth  in  such  a  mellow  warmth  that  it 
soon  dispelled  the  morning  chill  and  left  no  use  but 
pipe-lighting  for  the  fire,  which  burned  with  a  lazy 
flicker  of  transient  flame  and  lazier  drifts  of  smoke 
jets  from  snapping  embers  and  brands. 

Unruffled  by  the  breath  of  the  sleepy  air,  nor 
broken  at  all  save  where  some  waterfowl  languidly 
cleft  their  surface  with  a  silent  wake,  lake  and  creek 
bore  the  motionless  doubles  of  painted  shore  and 
reedy  margin,  and  the  deeper  azure  of  far  peaks 
and  cloudless  sky  ;  while  from  the  tranquil  scene 
arose  no  busier  sound  of  life  than  the  lazy  call  of 
a  duck  or  the  faint  noises  of  farms  so  remote  that 
they  seemed  beyond  it.  Near  at  hand,  but  no 
more  obtrusive,  there  was  a  drowsy  hum  of  warmed 


136  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

flics  and  the  slow  chirps  of  crickets  and  the  light 
scurrying  of  a  chipmunk  among  the  leaves. 

"  "Wai,  seh,  boys,"  said  Antoine,  breaking  the 
silence  of  the  circle  as  he  arose  and  stretched  him 
self  with  a  yawn,  "  dis  was  too  pooty  day  for  lose 
it.  What  all  you  goin'  do  wid  it,  hein  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  turrible  neat  day  an'  that 's  a  fact," 
Joseph  declared  with  unwonted  decision,  after  a 
slow  and  careful  contemplation  of  earth  and  sky. 
"  An'  I  be  thankful  'at  we  hain't  obleeged  tu  waste 
it  a-workin'.  It  allus  did  kinder  seem  tu  me  as 
'ougli  's  if  it  was  a-sorter  heaviii'  away  o'  the  Lord's 
blessin's  tu  spend  a  ri'  daown  pleasant  day  a-work 
in'.  Some  'at  I  misused  that  way  years  and  years 
ago  lays  heavy  on  my  conscience  yet." 

"  Naow,  Jozeff,  don't  be  110  harder  on  yourself 
'an  what  other  folks  is,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  in  mild 
sarcasm.  "  You  must  have  an  almighty  tender 
conscience  an'  an  almighty  good  mem'ry.  I  can't 
remember  but  precious  few  such  misduin's  tu  lay 
up  ag'in  ye." 

"  Wai,  the'  's  more  'n  I  wish  't  the'  was,"  said 
Joseph,  staring  retrospectively  into  the  smouldering 
embers  as  if  they  represented  the  cold  ashes  of  the 
past.  "It  does  seem  's  'ough  it  was  weeked,  most 
'specially  'long  in  the  fall,  an'  winter  comin'  on, 
when  the'  won't  be  no  rale  pleasant  days  aou'  door 
tu  speak  on,  for  a  feller  tu  be  a-breakin'  of  his  back 
diggin'  taters,  a-humpin'  up  ag'in  the  blue  sky,  with 


MUD    TURTLE.  137 

his  nose  an'  eyes  tu  dead  tater  tops  an'  naked  silo, 
when  ev'y thing  looks  so  putty  all  around,  an'  it 
a'niost  the  last  chance  o'  seein'  on  't,  or  putty  nigh, 
mebby.  Then  take  it  in  the  winter  when  the'  does 
come  one  o'  them  kinder  stray  days  'at  got  left  over 
aouten  fall,  er  comes  afore  its  reg'lar  time  in 
spring,  a  feller  do'  want  tu  be  a-tunkin'  at  a  tree 
julluk  a  woodpecker,  an'  lose  all  the  good  on  't, 
'ceptin'  what  sunshine  soaks  intu  his  back.  Then 
ag'in  come  spring  you  jest  wan'  tu  thaw  aout  an' 
git  the  good  on  't  yourself,  an'  not  be  tapped  julluk 
a  maple  an'  have  your  sap  b'iled  daown  for  other 
fo'kses  benefit.  Take  it  in  summer,  it 's  tew  hot 
most  o'  the  time  tu  work,  anyway,  an'  when  the' 
is  a  comf'table  day  it  seems  's  'ough  a  feller  ort  tu 
jest  lay  in  the  shade  an'  see  things  blow  an'  grow  an' 
git  ripe  erless  go  a-fishin',  which  I  would  n't  in  no 
boat  of  nary  sect,  not  for  ri'  daown  enj'yment, 
don't  seem  's  'ough  I  would,  not  if  they  bit  faster  '11 
you  c'ld  yank  'em." 

"  Dat  was  de  bes'  comfortable  Ah  '11  can  took  in 
dis  worl',  me,"  Antoine  remarked,  while  Joseph 
took  breath,  "  jes'  for  feesh,  an'  hab  de  feesh  do 
hees  half." 

"  I  don't  s'pose  it 's  sca'cely  right,"  Joseph  con 
tinued,  "  but  sometimes  it  'most  seems  's  'ough  I 
putty  nigh  wanted  tu  cuss  the  man  'at  invented 
work ;  he  sartainly  did  begin  a  tormented  sight  o' 
trouble." 


138  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  Not  no  gre't  for  you,  Jozeff,"  Uncle  Lislia 
commented,  and  went  on  to  say,  "  I  do'  know  as  I 
hanker  arter  work,  but  if  I  lied  me  my  tools  here 
an'  a  shoe  tu  mend,  jes'  for  knittin'  work,  I  cal'late 
I  sh'ld  enj'y  myself  tol'able  well." 

"  Work  kinder  goes  ag'in  the  grain  when  it  in 
terferes  wi'  huntin',''  Sam  said,  thrusting  a  cedar 
twig  into  the  dying  embers  and  watching  its  tardy 
kindling,  "  but  then  the  work  gives  a  better  relish 
tu  the  huntin'  when  you  git  it." 

"  One'  Lasha  spikiii'  'baout  de  shoe  mek  me 
t'ink  prob'ly  Ah  '11  bes'  was  gat  mah  t'read-needle 
an'  men'  mah  traowser,"  bending  to  inspect  his 
frayed  knees,  "  bah  gosh  !  Ah  wish  mah  clo's  was 
grow  up  jes'  sem  lak  you'  skin  w'en  you  tore  it. 
Ah  do'  know  all  what  Ursule  goin'  said  w'en  he 
see  mah  traowser  all  wore  off  so.  Ah  guess  Ah 
goin'  tol'  him  it  'cause  Ah  '11  been  pray  for  him  an' 
de  chil'en  so  much.  It  take  good  many  pray'  for 
go  raoun'  all  of  it,  ant  it?  Wai,  Ah  guess  Ah 
em-broider  mah  knee."  Then  having  got  needle 
and  thread  and  lighted  his  pipe,  he  sat  down  to  the 
uncongenial  task. 

"  Dis  mek  me  rembler  one  —  "  he  began,  and 
then  interrupted  himself  with  a  sharp  indrawing  of 
breath  and  an  imprecation,  "  S-s-s-p,  Sa-cre  !  "  as 
he  jabbed  the  needle  point  into  his  knee.  "  Dat 
mek  me  rembler  one  man  Canada." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas !  I  was  a-hopcsin'  you  'd 


MUD   TURTLE.  139 

forgot  him  for  oncte,"  Uncle  Lisha  shouted  with 
such  emphasis  that  it  arrested  the  flow  of  anec 
dote.  Antoine  suddenly  became  silent  and  plied 
his  needle  with  sullen  diligence. 

"  Wai,  you  might  as  well  trot  him  aout,  Ann 
Twine,"  the  old  man  said,  moderating  his  tone,  "  th' 
won't  be  no  gettin'  red  on  him  naow." 

Thus  encouraged,  Antoine  went  on  with  his 
story,  while  his  audience  listened  with  more  inter 
est  in  the  manner  of  his  telling  than  in  the  matter. 

"  Yas,  sah,  dey  was  one  man  Canada,  one  tarn, 
an'  if  you  '11  ant  b'lieved  it  Ah  can  tol'  you  nem 
de  place  w'ere  he  live,  honly  Ah '11  fregit  now. 
One  tarn  in  de  fall  his  waf  was  mek  it  new  pair 
clo's  all  over,  new  shirt,  new  coat,  new  traouser, 
everyt'ing.  De  hwomans  he  feel  putty  plump 
'cause  he  '11  weave  it  all  heese'f,  an'  cut  it  all  up 
an'  sew  it  togedder  heese'f,  an'  he  lak  for  look  at 
hees  mans  w'en  he  gat  all  on,  for  go  on  cle  market. 

"  One  day  w'en  he  go,  jes'  'fore  he  '11  ready  for 
start,  he  '11  hear  hees  leetly  dog  bark  very  hard  in 
de  hwood  not  more  as  leetly  way  from  de  haouse. 
He  was  terribly  hunter  mans,  an'  t'ink  prob'ly  de 
dog  was  tree  up  a  coon.  So  he  '11  took  hees  hoi' 
fusee  an'  run  off  for  shot  it  a  minute,  an'  bah  gosh, 
w'at  you  t'ink  ? 

"  It  was  pant'er,  hoi'  big  feller,  hugly  lak 
meat-axe.  But  de  mans  he  '11  ant  scare  for  run. 
He  p'ant  hees  gaun  an'  pull  it,  an'  de  flint  jes' 


140  UNCLE  LIBRA'S  OUTING. 

go  'pluck.'  An'  de  pant'er  jomp  on  de  man, 
'  scroonch,'  an'  tore  off  all  dat  new  clo's  not  more 
as  two  ninches  wide.  Oh,  bah  gosh,  Ah  '11  tol' 
you,  haow  dat  hwomans  was  feel  bad  w'en  she  see 
it  all  spile  up  dat  clo's  she  was  be  so  troublesome 
for  mek.  Dat  was  too  bad. 

"  Dar,  sah,"  he  said  as  he  regarded  his  needle 
work  with  proud  satisfaction  and  caressed  the  grin 
ning  stitches,  "  Ah  '11  b'lieved  dat  was  mos'  as  han'- 
some  as  if  Ah  '11  had  quiltiii'  party  work  man  knee. 
All  Ah  '11  'fraid  for  was  Ursule  t'ink  All  '11  gat 
some  oder  hwomans  for  sew  me  up." 

"Did  the  man  get  hurt  much,  Antwine?"  Jo 
seph  inquired. 

"  De  man  ?  Oh,  he  was  be  keel,  Ah  b'lieve  so. 
Wai,  Ah  guess  Ah  '11  goin'  han'some  mail  oder 
knee  so  hees  brudder  ant  be  shem  of  it.  One' 
Laslia,  if  you  want  it  Ah  '11  sew  you  clo's.  Ah  '11 
was  be  preffic  tailor  man,  me." 

When  the  last  stitch  was  taken  he  sawed  off  the 
thread  with  his  tobacco-clotted  knife,  put  the  nee 
dle  carefully  away,  and  then  studied  all  the  land 
scape  with  an  undecided  air  as  he  said :  — 

"  Wai,  Ah  do'  know  if  Ah  '11  go  feeshin',  or  pick 
some  wa'nut,  or  borry  some  happle,  or  go  'long  up 
de  crick  for  see  wat  Ah  '11  see.  Ah  guess  Ah  do 
dat,"  he  said,  coming  to  a  decision  as  his  eyes 
dwelt  on  the  shaded  level  shore.  "  Any  of  it  goiu' 
'long  to  me  ?" 


MUD   TUETLE.  141 

"  I  guess  I  '11  jes'  laze  raound  tu-day,"  Uncle 
Lisha  said  after  a  little  consideration,  and  Joseph 
after  larger  deliberation  concluded  to  stay  and 
help  him,  for  "  it  seemed  's  'ough  it  was  consid'ablo 
of  a  hefty  job  o'  sittin'  raound  for  a  man  o'  Uncle 
Lisher's  years  tu  ondertake  alone." 

"  If  I  had  Drive  here  I  'd  set  some  o'  these 
Lakefield  foxes  tu  dancin'  tu  a  Danvis  tune,"  Sam 
said,  studying  the  lay  of  the  land  with  a  careful 
eye,  "  jest  tu  see  haow  nigh  I  've  guessed  the  run 
ways.  As  it  is,  I  believe  I  '11  poke  along  up  tu 
Mr.  Bartlett's,  an'  take  'em  a  pair  o'  ducks." 

Failing  to  induce  any  of  them  to  accompany 
him,  Antoine  shouldered  his  gun  and  set  forth 
alone  along  the  shore  of  the  creek,  making  stealthy 
approach  to  every  marsh-locked  pool  that  offered 
harbor  to  a  duck,  and  searching  every  nut-tree  for 
squirrels.  But  the  waterfowl  were  abroad  and 
the  squirrels  at  home,  so  he  continued  his  quest  be 
yond  the  imperceptible  junction  of  the  shores  of 
creek  and  Slang. 

Now  and  then  he  was  startled  by  a  bittern  spring 
ing  in  awkward  haste  from  the  marshy  covert,  or 
by  a  heron  launching  himself  to 'stately  flight  from 
some  still  pool ;  but  he  did  not  care  to  chance  the 
uncertainty  of  a  flying  shot  on  such  poor  game, 
nor  did  he  discover  anything  worthy  of  capture  till 
he  came  near  the  log  causeway  that  formed  the  ap 
proach  to  the  Slang  bridge. 


142  UyCLE  LISHA'S   OUTIXG. 

There  he  came  upon  a  monstrous  turtle  scram 
bling  along  in  a  ponderous  haste,  the  eldest  patri 
arch  of  the  marshes,  bearing  moss  of  a  century's 
growth  upon  his  venerable  back.  Autoine  rejoiced 
at  the  discovery  of  such  noble  game  and  hastened 
forward  to  secure  it,  but  the  wary  old  turtle  imme 
diately  faced  him,  and  pivoting  on  its  hinder 
legs  met  every  attempt  of  his  assailant  to  seize  him 
by  the  tail  with  quick  out-thrusts  of  the  head  and 
vicious  snaps  of  the  ugly  jaws. 

"  Bah  gosh,  you  '11  ant  felt  very  good-nachel, 
dis  morny,  ant  it,  One'  Mud  Turkey  ? "  cried 
Antoine,  with  growing  respect  for  his  venerable 
antagonist.  "  "Wai,  Ah  '11  goiii'  give  you  somet'ing 
for  bit  ant  so  soft  Ah  was,"  and  laying  aside  his 
gun  he  went  in  search  of  a  suitable  stick. 

Taking  advantage  of  this  cessation  of  hostilities, 
the  turtle  retreated  to  the  bare  border  of  the  marsh 
and  began  burrowing  into  the  soft  muck  with  such 
speed  that  he  was  more  than  half  his  length  out  of 
sight  in  it  when  Antoine  returned  after  a  very  brief 
absence. 

Laying  hold  of  the  turtle's  tail,  the  stout  Cana 
dian  tugged  with  hiight  and  main  before  the  crea 
ture's  obstinate  resistance  was  finally  overcome  and 
he  was  drawn  forth  and  laid  sprawling  helplessly 
on  his  back.  One  end  of  a  stick  was  now  offered 
him,  which  he  seized  savagely,  and  was  dragged 
thereby  well  up  on  to  the  grassy  bank,  where  An- 


MUD   TURTLE.  143 

toinc  took  counsel  with  himself  concerning  the 
present  disposal  of  his  captive. 

"  'F  Ah  '11  took  you  home  jes'  you  was,  you  ant 
han'some  for  look,  an'  prob'ly  (ley  ant  t'ink  you 
was  fit  for  heat.  But  meat  jes'  han'some  anybody, 
so  Ah  '11  jes'  honly  took  dat  for  mek  you  'quaint  of 
de  boy.  Ah  '11  was  very  sorry  for  you,  One'  Mud 
Turkey,  but  Ah  '11  obleege  for  cut  you  necks. 
You  was  took  you'  las'  ride  on  you'  hown  foots, 
an'  you  '11  ant  pull  some  more  leetly  dauks  by  hees 
leg  of  it  an'  bit  hole  on  hoi'  homans  geeses  prob'ly. 
Oh,  ant  you  shem  for  do  so  gre't  weeked  ?  " 

Thus  hardening  his  heart  for  the  execution,  he 
drew  out  the  turtle's  neck  to  its  fullest  extent  by 
the  unreleased  grip  on  the  stick  and  severed  it  at 
one  stroke,  with  little  apparent  effect  on  the  crea 
ture's  vitality,  and  proceeded  to  dress  the  meat, 
using  the  broad  shell  as  a  trencher  whereon  to  be 
stow  it. 

Having  completed  this  task  and  washed  his 
hands,  he  felt  need  of  the  refreshment  of  a  smoke 
and  made  preparation  therefor,  but  then  discovered 
he  had  neither  matches  nor  punk,  though  he  was 
provided  with  flint  and  steel  for  firing  the  latter. 
In  this  extremity,  with  appetite  whetted  the  keener 
by  disappointment,  he  looked  about  for  the  means 
of  relief,  and  discovered  in  a  bushy  clearing  at  no 
great  distance  a  forlorn  little  cabin. 

A  wisp  of  smoke  writhing  from  the  low  chimney 


144  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

promised  fire  enough  to  light  a  pipe,  and  Antoine 
made  toward  it,  bearing  his  spoils  till  he  came  to 
a  safe  place  of  deposit  in  a  fence  corner. 

It  was  a  squalid  habitation,  indicative  of  shiftless 
poverty.  A  path  led  to  it,  bordered  on  one  side 
by  some  stunted  rows  of  frost-bitten  corn,  on  the 
other  by  hills  of  weed-choked  potatoes,  and  close 
to  the  threshold  a  starved  heap  of  pine  roots,  the 
sole  miserable  representative  of  a  woodpile  in  the 
midst  of  the  abundant  forest.  The  place  of  miss 
ing  panes  in  the  single  sash  of  the  only  front 
window  was  filled  by  a  weather-beaten  straw  hat 
and  a  faded,  tattered  remnant  of  calico  in  some 
sort  emblematic  of  the  occupants,  Antoine  thought, 
when  he  entered  after  knocking  on  the  sagged 
door  that  could  neither  be  quite  opened  nor  quite 
shut. 

A  tall,  gaunt,  hollow-eyed  woman  and  a  tallow- 
faced  boy  of  similar  habit  and  features  sat  smoking 
short  pipes  by  a  scant  open  fire,  and  turned  their 
listless  faces  toward  him  without  surprise,  scarcely 
with  curiosity,  as  he  accosted  them. 

"  Good  morny,  ma'm,  dat  was  very  nice  day  dis 
morny." 

"  H'm,  I  s'pose  so,"  the  woman  assented  dubi 
ously  in  a  dolorous,  monotonous  tone,  "  for  them 
'at 's  well  'nough  t'  enjoy  it.  We  hain't,  me  an' 
Jul'us." 

"  Ah  '11    very   sorry   you  ant  felt  better,"  said 


MUD   TURTLE.  145 

Antoine,  with  an  expression  of  deep  concern  in  his 
voice  ;  "  'f  Ah  could  lit  mah  pipe  Ah  '11  was  felt 
better,  me.  Ah  '11  ant  gat  some  fire." 

He  held  forward  his  pipe  to  indicate  his  need, 
and  the  old  woman  poked  the  embers  with  a  stick, 
hitching  her  rickety  chair  aside  to  make  room  for 
him.  Antoine  scooped  up  a  coal  and  puffed  dili 
gently  a  moment  before  he  asked  :  — 

"  What  was  be  de  matter  of  it,  ma'm  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it 's  the  rheumatiz  in  my  limb,  an'  Jul'us 
is  peaked.  No  appetite  for  nothin'  but  terbarker. 
I  s'pose  it 's  me  a-growin'  old  an'  Jul'us  a-growin' 
so  fast  —  grows  lak  a  weed,  he  does  ;  la'ge  of  his 
age,  an'  sma't  as  he  is  la'ge." 

She  regarded  her  son  with  stolid  admiration, 
while  he,  sucking  his  black  pipe  persistently,  as 
stolidly  received  her  praise  of  physical  and  mental 
growth  and  the  visitor's  hearty  confirmation  of  it. 

"  Yas,  ma'm,  he  '11  was  smart  boy,  lak  steel  traps, 
an'  he  beeg  lak  hosses.  Ah  '11  b'lieved  he  be  man 
'fore  you  was,  ma'm." 

"  I  do'  know  haow  in  this  livin'  world  he  grows 
so,  without  no  more  nourishin'  victuals,"  the  fond 
mother  continued.  "  We  hain't  had  nothin'  but 
pertaters  an'  johnnycake  an'  green  corn  t'  eat  for  a 
fortni't.  My  limb  has  pained  me  so 't  I  wan't  able 
to  arn  nothin'  duin'  for  the  neighbors,  an'  he  hain't 
able  to  work  no  time  —  it  takes  all  his  stren'th 
a-g;rowin'  —  so  we  hain't  hed  no  meat  victuals." 


14G  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  Dar  was  plenty  dauk  an'  feesh,"  Antoine  sug 
gested. 

"Haow  be  you  goin'  to  get  ducks  without  no 
gun  ner  nobody  to  shoot  it  ?  "  she  drawled,  with 
out  changing  her  monotonous  tone.  "  Er  ketch 
fish  when  you  ain't  able  ?  Fish  hain't  no  nour 
ishment  neither,  if  you  hain't  no  fat  pork  to  fry 
'em  in." 

"  Dar  was  a  lot  of  mud  turkey,"  Antoine  further 
suggested. 

"  Mud  turkles !  "  the  old  woman  exclaimed  with 
an  expression  of  intense  disgust  in  voice  and  fea 
tures.  "  D'  you  s'pose  we  'd  eat  mud  turkles  ? 
H'mp  !  I  'd  livser  eat  snake  !  " 

Antoine  felt  indignant  at  the  starved  crone's 
contempt  of  what  he  considered  a  choice  delicacy, 
but  inquired  blandly  :  — 

"Prob'ly  you'll  ant  lak  cheekin  pooty  good, 
ant  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  me  an'  Jul;us  can  eat  chicken,  the 
white  meat,  if  the'  hain't  no  skin  on  't." 

"  Wai,  naow,  Ah  '11  tol'  you,  ma'm,  dat  was 
purty  good  lucky,  'cause  you  see  Ah  '11  was  gat 
some  cheekin  all  dressed  up  dat  Ah  '11  was  carry  to 
mah  frien'  on  de  camp,  an'  Ah  '11  be  glad  for  give 
you  some  of  it  'f  you  len'  me  dish  for  fetch  it." 

The  old  woman  nodded  assent,  and  pointed  over 
to  the  table  with  the  air  of  begrudging  a  favor. 
Taking  a  broken  blue-edged  -plate  from  the  table 


MUD   TURTLE.  147 

that  was  scant  of  everything  but  untidiness,  An- 
toine  went  to  bring  the  alms. 

"  Ah  '11  can'  help  it,"  he  sighed  as  he  knelt  be 
fore  the  improvised  trencher,  and  reluctantly  se 
lected  a  generous  portion  of  the  lightest  colored 
meat. 

"  'F  Ah  '11  goin'  taught  it  for  heat  mud  turkey 
Ah  mus'  beegin  wid  de  bes'.  Ant  he  look  jes' 
lak  cheekin  ?  Bah  gosh,  he  was  cheekin,  honly  he 
grow  on  mud  turkey." 

He  carried  his  gift  to  the  cabin  and  presented  it 
to  the  old  woman,  who,  after  a  critical  inspection, 
began  preparing  it  for  the  pot ;  while  her  son 
awoke  to  such  interest  in  the  prospective  repast 
that  he  sauntered  out-doors,  and  with  the  dull  axe 
pounded  some  pine  roots  into  suitable  lengths  for 
the  fire,  which  being  kindled  he  sat  down  again  to 
the  restful  enjoyment  of  his  pipe  and  the  growing 
fragrance  of  the  seething  stew.  An toine  wished  he 
might  stay  and  see  with  what  relish  it  was  eaten, 
now  he  was  sure  his  half  kindly  deception  was  not 
suspected,  but  he  could  find  no  excuse  for  tarrying 
longer. 

"  Wai,  ma'm,"  he  said,  as  he  dallied  long  over 
the  fire  with  the  relighting  of  his  pipe,  that  he 
might  inhale  the  odor  of  the  pot,  "you  cheekin 
smell  very  good,  an  Ah  hoped  he  tas'e  more  better 
as  he  smell,  prob'ly,  an'  Ah  '11  hoped  you  '11  gat 
over  your  limb.  Ah  .'11  had  one  of  it  one  tarn  in 


148  UNCLE  IISHA'S  OUTING. 

mah  knee,  an'  he  was  very  bad  t'ing  for  had.  An' 
Ah  '11  hoped  you'  boy  grow  long  an'  wide.  Good 
morny,  bose  of  it." 

"  Thank  you,  an'  I  'm  obleeged  to  you,"  the  old 
woman  said,  with  some  cordiality.  "  I  s'pose  you 
could  n't  fetch  a  drawin'  o'  tea  if  you  come  this 
way  ag'in  ?  " 

Julius  withdrew  his  rapt  gaze  from  the  steam 
ing  pot  to  cast  an  inquiring  glance  on  the  depart 
ing  visitor,  who  went  his  way  pretending  not  to 
hear  the  request. 

Antoine  took  up  the  precious  burden,  which  had 
been  somewhat  lightened  by  his  generosity,  and 
bent  his  careful  steps  campward,  praying  that  he 
might  fall  in  with  nothing  worth  shooting,  and 
compelled  an  answer  to '  his  prayer  by  refusing  to 
see  a  chance  for  a  shot.  He  would  not  look  to  the 
right  when  a  partridge  clucked  and  stirred  the 
leaves  with  deliberate  footsteps  among  the  under 
growth  close  beside  his  path,  nor  to  the  left  when 
an  unsuspicious  squirrel  barked  and  squalled  in  the 
nearest  hickory,  nor  turn  his  eyes  toward  the 
marsh  to  seek  the  cause  of  the  bickering  and  splash 
ing  that  was  going  on  behind  the  screen  of  sedges. 

So,  without  interruption,  he  came  to  where  he 
saw  the  white  tent  shining  like  a  welcome  beacon 
among  the  trees.  He  presently  found  Uncle  Lisha 
and  Joseph  basking  in  the  sifted  sunshine,  the  one 
trying  to  content  himself  with  idleness,  the  other 
making  no  effort  for  the  full  enjoyment  of  it. 


MUD   TURTLE.  149 

Antoine  set  down  the  shell  of  meat  before  them 
and  exclaimed  as  he  pointed  proudly  toward  it :  — 

"  Dar,  sah,  Ah  '11  fetched  you  somet'ing  for  heat 
dat  was  victuals." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas  !  "  cried  Uncle  Lisha  in 
surprise,  "  where  did  ye  git  some  fresh  meat  ? 
You  be'n  where  they  was  a-boocherin'  ?  I  ain't 
heard  no  squealin',  an'  it  ain't  no  pork  nuther. 
What  is  't  ?  " 

"  No,  sah,  One'  Lisha,  Ah  '11  be'n  butchy  mase'f, 
an'  he  '11  ant  squeel  nor  beller,  an'  he  was  pork 
an'  beefs,  an'  —  wal,  dey  was  fave  kan's  of  it,  but 
Ah  '11  fregit  toder,  'cep'  cheekin  ;  Ah  '11  guess  he 
was  all  gone  prob'ly.  Ant  you  mek  aout  you 
min'  of  it,  Zhozeff  ?  " 

"  Wal,  I  don't  seem  to  make  aout  ezackly,"  said 
Joseph,  deliberating  on  all  fours  over  the  heap  of 
meat  and  swaying  and  crouching  in  various  points 
of  observation.  "  Mebby  it 's  beef,  but  I  guess 
it 's  pork,  an'  I  do'  know  but  it 's  veal,  some  on  't, 
an'  like  'nough  't  hain't  nary  one.  I  do'  know." 

"  An'  you  '11  was  gat  him  'baout  raght,  an'  it  was 
more  better  as  all.  It  was  mud  turkey !  " 

Joseph  recoiled  upon  his  haunches  aghast  at  the 
revelation,  and  Uncle  Lisha  exploded  a  snort  of 
disgust. 

"You'll  ant  want  for  stick  you'  nose  up  'fore 
you  gat  it  in  you'  mout',"  said  Antoine,  as  he  set 
about  his  cookery.  "  You  ant  w'en  you  smell 
heein,  an'  w'en  you  heat  you  be  happy." 


150  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

His  companions  watched  him  in  silence  that  was 
a  protest  against  his  operations  while  he  put  the 
meat  in  the  pot  and  set  it  on  the  replenished  fire, 
when  after  a  final  approving  glance  he  relegated  to 
them  the  further  care. 

"  Ah  b'lieved  Ah  '11  goin'  keel  dauk  over  on  de 
bay,  me,  an'  if  you  '11  was  goin'  loafer  raoun'  here 
you  can  jes'  well  keep  de  kittly  bile,  Zhozeff,  an' 
One'  Lasha  keep  you  from  heat  all  up  of  it,"  and 
when  Joseph  after  pondering  a  while  did  not  refuse 
the  duty,  Antoine  shouldered  his  gun  and  strolled 
out  of  sight  among  the  trees. 

When  the  sound  of  his  departing  footsteps  could 
no  longer  be  heard,  Joseph  started  up  with  unusual 
agility  and  whispered  wheezily,  "  Say,  Uncle  Lisher, 
it  don't  seem  's  'ough  we  orter  eat  that  dumbed 
hejus  riptyle  jes'  tu  please  him,  does  it  naow  ? " 
The  old  shoemaker  shook  his  head  in  decided  neg 
ative,  and  he  went  on,  "  Wai,  then,  I  tell  ye  what, 
le'  's  take  an'  empty  aout  the  consarned  mess  an' 
put  in  some  duck  meat  in  place  on  't ;  he  won't 
never  know  the  diff'ance.  Seem  's  'ough  it  wan't 
no  more  'n  sarvin'  him  right,  seein'  what  a  haow- 
delow  he  made  'baout  me  a-cookin'  that  bowfin  an' 
would  n't  let  me  cook  my  own  mud  hen,  which  if 
it  was  of  the  mud  specie  was  'nough  sight  better 
lookin'  faowl  an'  what  a  mud  turkle  is." 

"  I  hain't  no  objections,"  Uncle  Lisha  said,  "  for 
I  don't  like  the  idee  o'  bein'  'bleeged  tu  eat  what 


MUD   TURTLE.  151 

I  don't  want  tu.  But  we  won't  heave  it  away  ; 
we  '11  jest  hide  it  till  we  git  aour  dinner  eat,  an' 
the  critter  c'n  sit  up  nights  an'  cook  an'  eat  his  'n 
if  he  wants  tu." 

The  conspirators  at  once  set  about  carrying  out 
their  plot,  emptying  the  present  contents  of  the 
pot  into  a  pan  which  they  hid  inside  the  tent,  and 
substituting  therefor  the  fraud..  Wings,  skin,  and 
larger  bones  were  rejected,  and  no  flagrantly  incon 
gruous  member  put  in  except  one  gizzard,  which 
Joseph  popped  into  the  bottom  layer.  When  all 
this  was  accomplished  in  haste  and  fear  of  dis 
covery,  and  the  pot  again  set  to  boiling,  the  two 
sat  down  to  tend  it  with  more  leisurely  care,  but 
were  hardly  settled  in  their  seats  when  they  heard 
cries  of  distress  arising  from  below  the  cliff. 

"  Oh,  One'  Lasha !  Here,  Zhozeff,  come  fas' 
you  can !  Oh,  Ah  '11  broke  off  mah  leg,  bose  of 
it !  Ah  guess  mah  arm,  prob'ly.  Come,  quick !  " 

Greatly  alarmed,  they  hurried  down  the  steep 
path  with  a  speed  so  unwonted  that  it  endangered 
their  own  limbs.  They  searched  the  foot  of  the 
cliff,  expecting  at  every  step  to  come  upon  the  help 
less  form  of  their  comrade. 

"  Ann  Twine !  Ann  Twine !  where  be  ye  ?  Grunt 
if  ye  can't  speak,"  Uncle  Lisha  called  loudly,  but 
no  response  came. 

"  Wha'  d'  the  dumb  fool  wantu  go  an'  tumble 
off  o'  there  for?  He  might  ha'  knowed  it  'ould 


152  UNCLE  LISHA' S  OUTING. 

pooty  nigh  kill  him.  Mebby  he  is  dead,  poor  cre'- 
tur'  ;  I  wish 't  we  'd  ha'  let  his  turkle  be  jes'  as  he 
fixed  it.'? 

The  most  careful  search  failed  to  discover  An- 
toine  or  any  trace  of  him,  and  after  a  meditative 
silence  Uncle  Lisha  broke  out :  — 

"  Consarn  his  pictur',  he  be'n  a-foolin'  on  us  wi' 
his  dumb  French  cadidoes.  'T  would  n't  no  more  'n 
sarve  him  right  if  we  hove  him  over  the  rocks  an' 
his  mud  turkle  after  him." 

"  Er  make  him  kerry  us  up  on  his  back,"  Jo 
seph  suggested  as  they  toiled  up  the  path.  "  Seems 
's  'ough  that  'd  suit  me  tol'able  well." 

They  rested  themselves  while  they  watched  the 
pot,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Antoine 
returned,  tired  with  tramping  and  sharp  set  for  the 
aldermanic  feast. 

"Darned  cunnin'  caper,  wan't  it,  a-hollerin' 
bloody  murder  the  way  you  did  ? "  cried  Uncle 
Lisha,  and  wondered  at  the  innocence  of  the  Cana 
dian's  face  as  he  answered  in  surprise  :  — 

"  Me  ?  Ah  '11  ant  holler,  but  Ah  '11  felt  holler 
all  de  tarn,  an'  de  more  Ah  '11  smell  dis  de  more 
Ah  '11  felt  so.  Ah  guess  it  was  loon  you  hear. 
Ah  '11  see  one  of  it.  Or  wal'  geeses,  prob'ly  ;  dar 
was  big  drove  of  it  roos'  on  de  lake  'tween  de  li't- 
haouse." 

"  Ann  Twine,"  Uncle  Lisha  said  sadly,  "  you  be 
the  lyinest  sarpent  I  ever  see." 


MUD   TURTLE.  153 

The  others  watched  Antoine  furtively  as  he 
eagerly  sniffed  the  steaming  pot  and  peered  into  it, 
but  they  saw  no  shadow  of  suspicion  on  his  intent 
face. 

"Dar,  sah,  One'  Lasha,  an'  too  you,  Zhozeff, 
ant  you  '11  cure  you  foolish  all  de  tarn  you  been 
smell  dat  mud  turkey  git  ready  for  heat  ?  Oh,  Ah 
tol'  you  he  grea'  deal  more  better  as  dauk  an'  he 
jes'  tendry  as  cheekens,"  he  continued,  as  he  prod 
ded  the  contents  of  the  pot  with  a  fork  and  then 
lifted  it  from  the  fire  to  the  centre  of  the  table. 
"  Naow,  Zhozeff,  brought  de  plate  an'  de  bread  an' 
de  pettetto,  an'  git  ready  for  beegin.  Come,  One' 
Lasha." 

"  I  can't  help  a  spleeuiii'  ag'in  it,  Ann  Twine, 
but  I  'in  goin'  tu  try  it  a  hack,  jest  tu  please  you," 
said  Uncle  Lisha,  taking  his  place  with  feigned 
reluctance,  and  Joseph  followed  in  like  manner, 
after  performing  his  part  in  furnishing  the  table. 

Each  helped  himself  sparingly  and  took  tenta 
tive  morsels,  while  Antoine  fell  to  with  unques 
tioning  faith  and  good  appetite.  The  latter  was  so 
fully  shared  with  him  by  his  companions  that  they 
soon  forgot  their  pretense  of  aversion  and  vied 
with  him  in  the  onslaught,  and  exchanged  know 
ing  winks  when  he  extolled  the  excellence  of  the 
dish  and  smiled  upon  them  in  ^benignant  triumph. 
When  hunger  was  appeased,  Joseph  began  to  be 
uneasy  under  the  burden  of  his  secret  and  troubled 


154  UNCLE  LISHA1  S  OUTING. 

to  know  how  to  relieve  himself  of  it,  when  Antoine 
gave  him  the  opportunity. 

"  Dar,  sah,  One'  Lasha,  Zhozeff,  naow  you  was 
be  heat  it,  ant  you  willins  for  hown  he  was  putty 
good,  hein  ?  " 

"  Wai,  tol'able,  when  a  feller 's  hungry  'nough 
not  to  be  p'tic'lar,"  Uncle  Lisha  admitted,  "  but  I 
don't  call  it  nothin'  stror'iiary." 

"  Tu  tell  it  jest  's  't  is,  Antwine,"  said  Joseph, 
after  due  deliberation,  "  it  r'ally  don't  seem  's  'ough 
it  was  a  tumble  sight  diff'ent  f'm  duck." 

"  Oh,  he  ant,  ant  he  ?  "  cried  Antoine.  "  Oh, 
Zhozeh,  what  for  you  ant  talk  sem  you  heat? 
You  was  heat  more  as  you  was  in  two  day  'fore. 
Naow,  what  for  you  '11  ant  howii  dat  mud  turkey 
was  grea'  deal  more  better  as  dauk,  hein  ?  " 

"  You  won't  go  tu  r'arin'  up  and  gittin'  mad  'f 
I  tell  ye  ?  "  Joseph  asked,  swelling  with  suppressed 
laughter  and  hitching  a  little  nearer  to  Uncle 
Lisha,  who  was  chuckling  audibly. 

"  No,  sah,  Ah  '11  ant  never  git  mad  raght  after 
dinny,  'special  w'en  he  was  mud  turkey.  Dat 
always  mek  me  good-nachel,"  Antoine  magnani 
mously  declared. 

"  Wai,  you  hed  n't  ortu,  'cause  you  know  you 
was  consid'able  uppish  abaout  me  a-cookin'  my  mud 
hen  an'  haow  you  went  on  consarnin'  a  bowfin  'at 
I  fried  one  time,  an'  it  don't  seem  's  'ough  ary  one 
looked  wus  'n  a  mud  turkle  or  a  eel,  so  it  don't 


MUD   TURTLE.  155 

seem  's  'ough  you  'd  ortu  rare  up  much  when  I  tell 
ye  it  hain't  nob'dy  nor  nothin'  but  duck  we  be'n 
a  eatin'." 

"  Oh,  he  '11  ant,  ant  he  ?  Wai,  he  was  putty 
good  dauk,"  Antoine  remarked,  with  imperturbable 
coolness. 

"  It  wan't  nothin'  else,  an'  the  way  on 't  was,  you 
see,  me  and  Uncle  Lisher  kinder  spleened  ag'in 
that  'ere  turkle  so  it  did  n't  seem  's  'ough  we  could 
eat  it,  hungry  as  we  was.  So,  arter  you  was  gone, 
we  jest  emptied  it  aout  'n  the  kittle  an'  filled  it  up 
wi'  duck,  which  it  Is  what  you  be'n  a-eatin'.  But 
we  did  n't  heave  away  your  turkle  meat.  It 's  in 
the  tent  yender,  an'  you  c'n  eat  the  hull  caboodle 
on  't." 

The  two  conspirators  curiously  watched  their 
victim,  with  the  expectation  of  seeing  him  burn 
with  wrath  or  wilt  with  shame,  but  he  calmly  con 
tinued  the  careful  cleaning  of  his  pipe  without 
speaking  until  he  assured  himself  of  a  free  draft 
by  vigorously  blowing  and  sucking.  Then  grin 
ning  benign  an  tly  on  them  while  he  whittled  and 
ground  a  charge  of  tobacco,  he  said :  — 

"  Wai,  naow,  Ah  '11  goin'  tol'  yo'.  Ah  was  mek 
four  peoples  heat  mud  turkey  to-day,  an'  dey  ant 
know  it.  Fus',  w'en  Ah  dress  him  up  Ah  '11  fan' 
hoi'  hwomans  an'  hees  boy;  dey  ant  mos'  got 
not'ing  for  heat,  but  dey  can'  heat  mud  turkey,  oh, 
no.  De  good  meat  walkin'  all  raound  ant  quat 


156  UNCLE  LISHXS   OUTING. 

good  'nough  for  it ;  dey  mus'  had  clieekin,  an'  de 
hoi'  hwomans  an'  hees  boy,  dey  was  very  satisfy. 
Den  All  '11  brought  de  res'  an',  bah  gosh,  you  was 
very  kin'  for  cook  it  an'  help  me  heat  it,  w'en 
Ah  '11  know  you  '11  ant  lak  it  for  heat  mud 
turkey." 

"  I  tell  ye,  Ann  Twine,  it  wan't  turkle !  "  Uncle 
Lisha  cried  in  some  heat.  "  We  would  n't  eat  the 
dumb  stuff,  an'  so  we  changed  it,  jest  as  Jozeff 
says." 

"  Dat  was  so,  for  Ah  '11  see  you  do  it,  me.  Yes, 
sah,"  he  continued,  complacently  regarding  their 
astonished  faces.  "  Wen  Ah  go  'way  Ah  '11  fregit 
mah  pipe  an'  Ah  '11  come  for  gat  it  an'  see  you  an' 
Zhozeff  was  fuss  wid  de  pot,  an'  Ah  '11  hid  behin' 
dat  bush  till  you  gat  it  all  fix  as  you  want  it. 
Wen  you  '11  hear  me  holler  you  '11  ant  fin'  me, 
ant  you  ?  Dat  tarn  Ah  '11  come  back  here  quick 
an'  Ah  '11  swap  de  meat  ag'in,  an',  bah  gosh,  sah, 
you'll  gat  lot  of  dat  mud  turkey  inside  of  you." 

"  Ann  Twine,  you  're  a-tellin'  one  o'  your  lies," 
said  Uncle  Lisha  incredulously.  For  answer  An- 
toine  brought  forth  the  pan  of  duck  from  the  tent 
and  set  it  before  them. 

"  Dar,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  gizzard  conspic 
uously  displayed  on  the  top,  "  has  mud  turkey  gat 
gizzar'  ?  Ant  Ah  '11  see  you  put  heem  on  de 
pot,  Zhozeff  ?  Ant  Ah  '11  see  you  poke  for  it  when 
you  heat,  hein  ?  Oh,  you  was  lak  de  gizzar'  very 


MUD   TURTLE.  157 

much,  Zhozeff,  but  you  '11  ant  fin'  it  lionly  but  jcs' 
de  chip  Ah  '11  put  in  for  improve  mah  storee  for  be 
true,"  and  after  a  moment's  search  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pot  he  fished  out  a  cedar  chip  on  the  point 
of  his  fork  and  held  it  triumphantly  before  their 
faces,  whose  expression  of  blank  amazement  broad 
ened  to  imbecile  grins,  while  Antoine  laughed  up 
roariously. 

"Oh,  One'  Lasha!  Oh,  Zhozeff!  Ant  you 
putty  smart  for  foolish  me  an'  gat  foolish  you'se'f 
more  as  Ah  was,"  and  he  pranced  about  in  an 
ecstasy  of  triumph,  while  Uncle  Lisha  groaned  in 
disgust. 

"  The  dumb  thing  makes  me  feel  crawly.  I 
shall  be  a  snappin'  at  ye  fust  ye  know." 

"  Wait,  Ah  '11  look  see  if  de  moss  beegin  for 
grow  on  you  back,  One'  Lasha.  Oh,  don't  you 
go  crawl  011  de  ma'sh,"  as  the  old  man  stumped 
down  the  path  to  the  landing. 

"  Say,  Antwine,"  Joseph  said  confidentially,  "  it 
don't  seem 's  'ough  the'  'd  be  any  use  o'  tellin'  Sam- 
wil.  If  you  won't  say  iiothiii'  I  won't,  an'  we  '11 
come  it  on  him." 

But  when  Sam  came  he  stumbled  upon  the  fresh 
turtle  shell,  and  remarked  as  he  kicked  it  aside :  — 

"  Hello !  be'n  a-havin'  mud  turkle,  hev  ye. 
Wai,  gi'  me  some  if  you  got  any  left.  I  al'ays 
be'n  wantin'  tu  try  it." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A    DAY    INLAND. 

SAM  put  his  gun  in  the  canoe  for  company  or 
from  force  of  habit,  but  took  no  pains  to  find  use 
for  it.  His  paddle  strokes  fell  so  noiselessly  that 
the  waterfowl  sitting  in  the  edge  of  the  marsh 
were  first  notified  of  his  approach  by  the  sight  of 
the  canoe's  prow  nosing  its  swift  way  past  their 
hiding-place,  or  of  the  paddler's  slightly  swaying 
figure  and  the  flash  of  his  dripping  blade.  Others 
dozing  full-fed  were  not  aroused  till  the  wake  of 
the  canoe  shook  the  walls  of  their  rush  wigwam, 
and  then  with  shaken  quacks  and  squeaks  of  terror 
sprang  to  needless  flight.  A  flock  of  low-flying 
teal  came  upon  him  so  suddenly  that  he  instinc 
tively  ducked  his  head  as  they  swerved  upward 
and  swept  over  him,  and  great  fish  dashed  from 
beneath  his  stealthy  keel  with  a  startling  surge. 

Then  he  saw  the  two  Indians  a  little  way  before 
him,  paddling  slowly  and  halting  at  every  muskrat 
house,  in  such  leisurely  conduct  of  their  affairs 
as  if  the  bright  day  were  endless  and  the  genial 
season  to  have  no  following:  of  storm  and  bitter 


A  DAY  INLAND.  159 

cold,  less  provident  than  the  muskrats,  in  no  more 
haste  than  the  lazily  migrating  waterfowl.  Their 
voices,  attuned  to  nature's,  sounded  no  louder  than 
the  rustle  of  their  paddles  in  the  sedges  as  he  ran 
alongside,  and  they  then,  first  aware  of  him,  showed 
no  more  surprise  at  his  sudden  appearance  than  if 
a  weed  had  drifted  past. 

"  Quiee,"  Tocksoose  gave  greeting,  and  grinned 
a  friendly  recognition  as  he  dropped  a  quarter- 
grown  kit  from  a  trap  into  the  canoe  ;  but  his 
comrade  did  not  so  much  as  turn  his  sour  face 
toward  the  newcomer. 

"  It 's  tew  bad  to  ketch  sech  leetle  runts,"  Sam 
remonstrated.  "  They  hain't  wuth  fo'pence." 

"  Me  no  ketch  um,  mebby  od'  man  ketch  um. 
Mebby  mink  ketch  um,"  said  Tocksoose.  "  Me 
like  um  git  fo'  cen',  as  od'  man  got  twenty  cen', 
nex'  year.  LiF  moosquas  mo'  better  for  eat  as  ol' 
one." 

"You  might  as  well  preach  tu  the  minks  an' 
foxes  as  tu  these  critters,"  Sam  thought,  driving 
his  canoe  forward  with  vigorous  strokes  that  soon 
brought  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  East  Slang,  into 
which  he  passed  and  made  his  way  up  the  narrow, 
winding  channel.  Rounding  a  bend,  he  came  to 
the  foot  of  a  long  reach,  in  which  nothing  animate 
could  be  seen  astir  but  a  solitary  grebe  wrinkling 
the  glassy  surface  in  widening  circles  at  various 
points  of  departure  and  return,  in  his  explorations 


100  UNCLE  LISILVS   OUTING. 

of  the  nether  watery  world.  Sam  let  the  canoe 
drift  at  the  will  of  the  idle  current,  while  he 
curiously  counted  the  moments  of  the  agile  diver's 
disappearing. 

Then  his  wandering  gaze  became  fixed  on  a  great 
hawk  that  came  cruising  low  over  the  apparently 
tenantless  marsh.  With  short,  restrained  beats  of 
his  broad  pinions  the  falcon  ranged  the  silent  cover 
till  suddenly,  with  a  sharp,  downward  slant  he 
swooped  into  its  depths,  wherefrom,  in  the  same 
instant,  with  a  clamorous  outcry  of  affrighted 
squeaks,  a  hundred  wood  ducks  burst  upward  with 
a  startling,  thunderous  roar  of  wings,  threshing 
water,  sedges,  and  air.  As  suddenly  as  they  had 
risen  they  settled  with  a  resounding  splash  in  the 
open  water  of  the  channel,  where  they  sat  mo 
tionless,  silent,  and  alert.  The  baffled  marauder 
mounted  heavily  from  the  weeds,  and  wheeling  a 
moment  above  the  vigilant  congregation,  each 
member  of  which  was  ready  to  dive  at  any  sign  of 
attack,  he  recognized  the  uselessness  of  a  further 
attempt  and  sullenly  retired. 

The  swimming  ducks  offered  a  rare  opportunity 
for  a  deadly  shot,  but  Sam  admired  so  much  the 
adroitness  with  which  they  had  foiled  the  onslaught 
of  the  hawk  that  he  hesitated  to  take  advantage  of 
it,  and  while  he  hesitated  they  became  aware  of 
the  presence  of  a  more  fearful  danger  than  that 
which  had  threatened  them  from  above,  now  lurk- 


A  DAY  INLAND.  161 

ing  close  beside  them,  and  again  simultaneously 
sprang  into  the  air.  Then  Sam  instinctively  got 
his  gun  in  hand,  and  taking  aim  at  the  nearest 
duck  that  was  laboring  upward  pulled  the  trigger ; 
but  the  cap  responded  to  the  stroke  of  the  hammer 
with  only  a  faint,  lifeless  click,  and  before  it  could 
be  replaced  by  another  one  the  tardiest  laggard 
was  well  out  of  range.  When  an  anathema  had 
been  bestowed  upon  the  worthless  cap  and  its 
maker,  Sam  tried  to  make  a  virtue  of  the  misfire 
and  be  glad  that  it  had  happened,  and  thus  at 
tempting  to  fool  himself  with  his  own  hypocrisy, 
came  to  the  landing,  marked  as  a  place  of  resort 
by  the  ashes  and  spent  brands  of  fishing  fires  that 
had  burned  in  the  spring  nights  when  bullpouts 
were  biting. 

Measuring  the  height  of  the  sun,  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might  enjoy  the  excitement  of  the 
arrival  of  the  stage-coach  by  going  a  little  out  of 
his  way  to  Friend  Bartlett's,  and  therefore  he  held 
across  the  fields  at  a  brisk  pace  toward  the  tavern, 
at  which  the  coach  halted  for  a  change  of  horses. 
As  he  came  to  the  high  rail  fence  of  a  stubble 
field,  he  surprised  a  small  flock  of  wild  pigeons 
busily  picking  up  the  scattered  grain.  He  had 
but  a  glimpse  of  them  on  the  ground,  their  backs 
shining  in  the  slanting  sunlight  like  variously  tem 
pered  burnished  steel,  when,  with  a  simultaneous 
clapping  of  wings,  like  a  burst  of  applause,  they 


1G2  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

took  flight.  He  fired  into  the  thick  of  the  flock, 
and  four  birds  tumbled  out  of  it.  He  strung  them 
through  the  under  mandibles  on  two  of  the  long 
tail  feathers  tied  together  at  the  tips,  and  hastened 
on  with  his  burden  increased  in  weight,  but  more 
in  beauty  ;  for  the  pigeons  were  old  males,  with 
ruddy  breasts  and  brilliant  upper  plumage  that 
shone  with  varied  hues  in  the  shifting  lights.  It 
soon  had  another  quite  as  unexpected  addition,  for 
as  Sam  skirted  the  brink  of  a  hollow,  where  a 
brook  looped  a  miniature  intervale,  in  uncertain 
quest  of  easiest  passage,  a  partridge,  an  early  wan 
derer  from  the  woods,  burst  out  of  the  fringe  of 
trees  like  a  cannon-shot  from  a  palisade  and  flew 
straight  for  the  home  coverts,  now  with  a  blur  of 
rapid,  quivering  wing-beats,  now  with  set  pinions, 
till  Sam,  dropping  his  load  and  aiming  far  ahead 
of  the  fleeting  mark,  brought  it  to  the  pasture 
sward  in  a  long  incline,  as  if  alighting  naturally ; 
but  it  struck  the  ground  with  a  rebounding  thud, 
•which  filled  his  heart  with  the  pride  that  always 
comes  to  him  who  brings  this  noble  bird  down  from 
its  flight. 

He  made  haste  to  pick  it  up  and  go  on  his  way, 
for  he  could  hear  the  unmistakable  far-sounding 
cluck  of  the  approaching  stage-coach  and  see  the 
neighborhood  gathering  at  the  tavern.  When  he 
reached  it  he  was  not  the  latest  comer,  for  two 
panting  boys  came  running  in  honest  undisguised 


A  DAY  INLAND.  1G3 

haste,  followed  by  another,  who  urged  his  bare 
legs  to  greater  speed  with  sharp  commands  and 
vigorous  cuts  of  a  switch  while  he  impersonated 
coach,  horses,  and  driver.  After  them  came  a  be 
lated  grown-up  idler  trying  to  stay  his  steps  to  a 
deliberate  pace,  and  from  his  shop  across  the  road 
the  aproned  cooper  came  bareheaded,  with  his 
short-handled  adze  in  his  hand  and  diffusing  a 
wholesome  odor  of  the  pine  staves  and  ash  hoops 
of  cheese  casks. 

Now  came  the  stage-coach,  the  four  horses  at  a 
brisk  trot,  the  red  and  yellow  body  rocking  with 
stately  motion  under  the  burden  of  passengers,  bag 
gage,  and  mails,  and  greatest  of  all  the  driver, 
known  from  one  end  to  the  other  of  his  route  by 
every  one,  some  of  whom  had  the  distinction  of 
being  known  by  him.  lie  pulled  up  the  horses 
before  the  low  stoop,  and  throwing  the  reins  to  a 
hostler,  descended  from  his  lofty  seat  to  open  the 
door  of  the  coach  for  such  passengers  as  chose  to 
alight  and  stretch  their  legs  while  the  horses  were 
changed.  Hospitably  welcomed  by  the  smiling 
landlord,  clean-shaven  and  in  shirt-sleeves  spot 
lessly  white,  all  availed  themselves  of  the  chance 
except  a  woman  dressed  in  deep  mourning  who 
held  a  little  boy  with  long  wavy  flaxen  hair  and  a 
brunette  complexion,  seated  upon  her  lap.  He 
stared  out  wide-eyed  at  the  juvenile  groundlings, 
envying  them  their  freedom  no  less  than  they  his 


164  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

distinguished  position  as  a  stage-coach  passenger, 
while  there  was  a  silent  interchange  of  bashful 
smiles. 

Two  of  the  passengers  were  spruce  city  men, 
wearing  their  well-fitting  garments  with  the  accus 
tomed  ease  that  a  sharp-faced  old  lawyer  wore  his 
shabby  suit  of  black,  and  an  air  of  half  contemptu 
ous  condescension  toward  three  farmers  who  like 
himself  were  representatives-elect  to  the  Legisla 
ture  on  their  way  to  the  State  capital.  These 
three  were  already  counting  the  cost  of  the  honor 
as  they  longed  for  the  daily  comfort  of  shirt-sleeves 
and  old  clothes,  and  wondered  how  they  could  bear 
the  burden  of  coats  for  four  long  weeks,  and  what 
they  should  do  with  the  strong,  hard  hands  that 
till  now  few  days  but  Sundays  had  found  unem 
ployed.  Even  now  one  got  his  knife  open  and 
searched  the  ground  for  a  bit  of  soft  wood  to  whit 
tle,  while  another  resumed  interrupted  work  upon 
his  finger-nails,  which  gave  promise  of  employment 
for  some  time  to  come.  There  was  also  a  bluff 
Englishman,  who  at  once  caught  sight  of  Sam's 
birds  and  asked  many  questions  concerning  them, 
as  did  the  city  men  —  he,  with  a  sportsman's  inter 
est  ;  they,  with  a  hungry  relish  of  whatever  smacked 
of  wild  life. 

To  the  untraveled  mountaineer  the  stage-coach, 
with  the  mud  and  dust  of  other  and  distant  towns 
upon  its  wheels  and  painted  sides,  and  bringing 


A  DAY  INLAND.  165 

hither  dwellers  in  great  cities  and  men  whose  home 
was  beyond  the  sea,  was  as  strange  an  object  as  a 
ship  come  to  quiet  port  from  the  turmoil  of  the 
ocean  and  the  busy  world  beyond  it,  with  the  salt 
of  the  sea  waves  still  upon  its  decks  and  the  breath 
of  foreign  atmospheres  not  yet  quite  exhaled.  The 
sight  and  touch  of  it  gave  him  a  dreamy  vision  of 
scenes  that  he  could  never  chance  to  see,  and  with 
such  respect  for  its  strangeness  he  marveled  at 
the  bold  familiarity  of  the  boys,  who  pranced  and 
capered  as  horses  at  the  empty  pole,  thrust  out  like 
a  stripped  bowsprit,  while  one  enjoyed  a  blissful 
moment  of  regal  glory  on  the  box. 

The  little  child  inside  the  coach  was  teasing  his 
mother  for  something,  and  she,  after  an  unavailing 
attempt  to  quiet  him,  asked  Sam  —  now  sitting 
alone  on  the  long  bench  of  the  stoop  —  if  she 
could  get  a  drink  of  water  for  the  child.  He  at 
once  brought  a  brimming  glass  from  the  bar-room, 
and  with  a  careful  eye  upon  it  as  she  stretched 
forth  her  hand,  he  saw  a  narrow  band  of  unmis 
takable  mulatto  skin  between  the  glove  and  the 
sleeve. 

He  gave  a  quick  start  at  the  unexpected  revela 
tion,  that  spilled  a  little  of  the  water,  and  cast  a 
quick,  inquiring  glance  at  the  black-veiled  face. 
The  woman,  as  quickly  divining  the  cause,  hastily 
drew  her  sleeve  down  to  her  glove.  The  boy 
drank  eagerly  and  she  finished  the  glass  under  her 


ICG  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

veil,  returning  it  with  a  trembling  hand  to  Sam, 
who  reassured  her  with  a  significant  shake  of  his 
head  and  a  hand  upon  his  lips.  The  stage-coach 
had  a  new  interest  for  him  now,  but  he  did  not 
betray  it  by  staring  inside  it. 

The  fresh  horses  were  brought  out  and  put  on, 
the  travelers  took  their  places,  the  rural  represen 
tatives  flurried  with  fear  of  being  left,  the  lawyer, 
the  Englishman,  and  others  with  the  easy  delibera 
tion  of  owners,  for  whom  the  coach  must  wait. 
The  driver  climbed  to  the  box,  cracked  his  whip, 
and  the  heavy  conveyance  rolled  gayly  away. 

The  landlord,  the  hostlers,  and  the  spectators 
watched  its  departure  to  the  first  turn  of  the  road. 

"  By  grab  !  Dan  don't  drive  a  livelier  team  'an 
that  on  his  route,  I  '11  bet,"  said  the  landlord,  with 
drawing  his  admiring  gaze  from  the  retreating 
coach. 

"  Got  quite  a  load  o'  rep'sent'tives,"  another  re 
marked.  "  Don't  know 's  they  look  much  better  'n 
aourn.  Wonder  if  he 's  goin'  by  stage." 

"  M'dah,"  one  answered,  evidently  not  a  sup 
porter  of  the  successful  candidate.  "  He  's  a-goin' 
tuckernuck,  with  his  own  team  !  " 

"  By  jolly !  "  the  fat  cooper  ejaculated,  "  I  wish 
't  I  had  what  it  cost  tu  paint  that  'ere  English 
man's  face.  You  wouldn't  ketch  me  a-wheltin' 
hoops." 

"  That  'ere  womern  was  turrible  afeared  o'  show- 


A  DAY  INLAND.  167 

in'  her  face,"  the  youngest  man  of  the  party  said; 
"  but  she  need  n't  ha'  be'n  if  she  's  as  good-lookin' 
as  her  boy." 

"  Some  widder  womern,  proberbly,"  the  land 
lord  said  oracularly,  and  the  company  dispersed 
slowly,  except  the  boys'  steps  were  hastened  by  the 
imperative  rap  of  the  schoolmistress's  ruler  on  the 
rattling  window  sash  of  the  schoolhouse.  While 
the  corner  hamlet  lapsed  into  its  ordinary  quietude 
Sam  took  the  road,  and  presently  came  to  Friend 
Bartlett's. 

The  peaceful  atmosphere  of  the  place  was  not 
disturbed  by  his  approach.  The  fat  dog  arose 
from  his  basking-place  on  the  sunny  side  of  the 
horse-block  and  walked  forth  to  meet  him  with  a 
slow,  non-committal  wag  of  the  tail,  which  was 
quickened  to  a  friendly  greeting  when  the  game 
was  sniffed  and  Sam's  knee  had  passed  olfactory 
inspection,  and  then  escorted  him  to  the  door  with 
dignified  cordiality. 

Rebecca  Bartlett  met  him  with  a  pleased  smile 
lighting  her  placid  face  as  she  recognized  him. 

"  Why,  this  is  Samuel,  is  n't  it  ?  Well,  I  'm 
real  glad  to  see  thee.  I  've  wanted  to  talk  with 
thee  about  poor  Pelatiah  ever  since  John  saw  thee. 
What,  thee  has  n't  brought  us  more  ducks?  " 

"  Wai,  yis,  marm,"  said  Sam,  "  ducks  was  what 
I  started  tu  fetch  ye,  but  I  run  ontu  a  few  pigins 
an'  a  pa'tridge,  an'  did  n't  know  but  you  could 


168  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

work  'cm  in  some  way.  Pa'trklge  is  pooty  dry- 
meated,  but  pigiiis  makes  tol'able  pigin  pies,  aour 
folks  thinks." 

"  Thee  has  got  a  partridge  ?  Now  I  am  glad," 
she  declared  with  great  satisfaction  and  increased 
interest,  as  she  raised  the  bird  from  the  bunch  and 
felt  the  plump  breast  with  a  critical  hand.  "  It 's 
what  neighbor  Corbin  's  craving,  and  nob'dy  's 
been  able  to  get  him  one." 

"  Onwell,  is  he,  inarm  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  's  very  low,"  said  Rebecca,  modu 
lating  her  voice  to  due  solemnity.  "  It 's  con 
sumption,  and  it  is  n't  likely  he  can  continue  long, 
but  he  thinks  a  partridge  is  all  he  needs  to  make 
him  well.  Thee  knows  how  it  is  with  people  in  a 
decline.  Now,  if  thee  's  willing,  I  '11  send  it  to 
him." 

"  Why,  sartinly,  Mis'  Bartlett,  it's  yourn  to  du 
jest  what  you  're  a  min'  tu  with ;  an'  I  '11  sit  ri' 
daown  an'  pick  it  an'  dress  it." 

"  No,  thank  thee,  Samuel ;  I  think  it  will  please 
him  to  see  it  jest  as  it  is.  He  's  been  a  great 
hunter.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  for  him  now 
if  he  had  given  his  thoughts  more  to  weightier 
matters ;  but  it  has  seemed  hard  that  he  could  n't 
have  one  partridge  now,  when  he  used  to  get  so 
many,  and  for  other  people  too.  Margaret !  " 

"  Yes,  mother,"  a  soft  voice  answered  out  of  a 
light  stir  of  housework  inside,  and  in  a  moment  the 


A  DAY  INLAND.  169 

daughter  appeared,  without  a  trace  of  its  recent 
performance  upon  her  neat  attire.  A  shade  of 
anxiety  fell  upon  her  face  as  she  recognized  the 
visitor,  to  whom  she  gave  friendly  greeting. 

"  Why,  how  does  thee  do  ?  "  and  then  turning 
questioning  eyes  to  her  mother,  "  no  bad  news  of 
—  of  the  apples,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  No  news  ary  way,"  Sam  answered.  "  I  see 
'em  git  a  good  start  tow-ards  Canerdy." 

"  No,  it 's  nothing  about  them,"  said  Rebecca, 
"  but  Samuel  has  brought  us  more  ducks  and 
some  pigeons  and  this  partridge,  which  seems 
almost  providential.  Now  thee  put  on  thy  bonnet 
and  run  right  up  to  neighbor  Corbin's  with  the 
partridge,  will  thee  ?  While  thee  's  gone  I  '11  get 
these  pigeons  ready  and  make  a  pie  for  dinner. 
If  thee  's  a  mind  to  help  me  pick  'em,  Samuel,  we 
can  talk  about  Pelatiah,  and  thee  '11  stay  to  dinner 
with  us." 

Sam  was  not  loath  to  accept  both  invitations,  and 
followed  Rebecca  to  the  woodshed.  Half  of  this 
was  floored  with  plank,  neatly  swept,  but  thickly 
scarred  with  axe  wounds  where  misdirected  blows 
had  fallen  along  the  border  nearest  the  chip-lit 
tered  ground,  on  which  the  tiers  of  wood  arose  to 
the  base  of  the  cobwebbed  rafters,  to  which  phoebe- 
birds'  nests  of  past  summers  clung  in  various 
stages  of  dilapidation.  The  cheese-press  stood  at 
one  end  of  the  floor,  the  lever  weighted  with  worn- 


170  UNCLE  LISHA>S   OUTING. 

out  plow-points,  making  occasional  spasmodic, 
creaking  descents,  presently  followed  by  an  in 
creased  trickle  of  whey  into  the  keeler.  A  work 
bench  stood  at  the  other  end,  with  a  vise  and  a  few 
tools  upon  it,  under  a  dusty  window,  a  rack  of 
augers  and  a  sickle,  and  a  corn-cutter  made  from  a 
broken  scythe.  Along  the  walls  between  the  cheese- 
press  and  the  work-bench  hung  various  utensils  of 
the  dairy  and  the  kitchen,  divided  by  the  kitchen 
and  cheese-room  doors.  Elderly  hens  made  cau 
tious  incursions  into  this  debatable  ground  be 
tween  indoors  and  out,  where  nests  were  tolerated 
if  once  established. 

Rebecca  sat  down  011  the  chopping-block  and 
Sam  on  the  saw-horse,  and  they  stripped  the 
feathers  from  the  birds  into  the  same  basket ;  and 
so,  with  hands  and  tongues  employed  together, 
economized  time  like  two  gossips  at  their  knitting. 

"  Poor  thing,"  Rebecca  exclaimed,  pitying  a 
wound  she  had  uncovered  of  resplendent  feathers, 
"  it  does  seem  cruel  to  kill  such  pretty  creatures, 
but  they  do  pick  up  a  great  deal  of  wheat,  and  they 
make  excellent  pies.  And  now  tell  me  about 
Pelatiah.  Was  he  greatly  cast  down  ? "  She 
sighed  deeply  and  made  piteous  little  sounds  with 
her  tongue  against  her  teeth,  as  she  listened  to  the 
story  of  Pelatiah' s  disappointment  and  Louisa's 
death,  and  when  it  was  ended  said  in  soft,  motherly 
tones  :  — 


A  DAY  INLAND.  171 

"  Ah,  poor  souls,  how  sad  !  Pelatiah  was  very 
kindly  and  faithful,  but  I  used  to  wish  he  was 
more  tender.  He  did  n't  go  to  meeting  with  us 
very  often.  I  hope  he  is  softened.  Louisa  was  a 
pleasant  young  woman,  but  light.  Poor  thing! 
poor  thing !  " 

"  Well,  Peltier  ain't  no  gre't  hand  tu  go  tu 
meetin',  but  I  wisht  there  wan't  no  worse  folks  in 
the  world.  And  he  's  as  tender-hearted  as  a  gal." 

"  There,  now,  I  '11  get  the  broom  and  sweep  thee 
off,"  though  Sam  protested  that  he  was  quite  clean 
enough.  "  My,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  supple 
mented  the  vigorous  sweeping  of  Sam's  legs  by  the 
application  of  a  moistened  forefinger,  "  how  feathers 
do  stick  to  woolen  stuff.  Now  I  guess  thee  '11  do." 

Now  Margaret  returned  glowing  with  the  fresh 
ness  of  the  morning,  but  sobered  by  recent  speech' 
with  one  who  was  near  the  end  of  life's  journey. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  how  did  thee  find  David  this 
morning  ?  " 

"  Very  feeble  ;  but  he  brightened  up  wonderfully 
at  the  sight  of  the  partridge,  and  says  he  shall  be 
able  to  shoot  them  himself  in  a  little  while." 

"Ah,  poor  man,"  Rebecca  sighed,  "he's  done 
with  all  such  things." 

"  He  wanted  me  to  thank  thee,"  Margaret  said 
to  Sam. 

"  Why,  it  was  n't  me.  It  was  your  mother  an' 
you.  But  I  be  sorry  for  anybody  'at  wants  to  go 


172  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

huntin'  an'  can't.  That  is  tough.  It  'ould  dn  him 
more  good  tu  shoot  one  pa'tridge  'an  to  eat  a 
dozen." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  how  that  could  be,"  said 
Margaret,  with  a  questioning  smile.  Sam  answered 
by  asking :  — 

"  Why,  would  n't  you  druther  pick  one  wild 
posy  'at  you  s'arched  for  yourself  'an  tu  hev  a  hid 
harnful  fetched  tu  ye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  and  being  a  woman  Margaret  shifted 
ground.  "  But  I  can't  understand  how  people  can 
enjoy  killing  things,  such  pretty  things  as  par 
tridges." 

"  They  hain't  no  prettier  'n  posies,  an'  it  kills 
posies  tu  pick  'em.  But  that  ain't  what  you  pick 
'em  for.  It 's  to  hev  'em." 

"  But  it  does  n't  hurt  the  posies,"  she  argued. 

"  That 's  more  'n  we  know,  bein'  'at  we  hain't 
posies,  not  all  on  us,"  and  Sam's  honest  admiring 
eyes  completed  the  compliment. 

"  Well,  child,  we  must  be  doing,"  said  her 
mother,  admonished  by  the  deliberate  chime  of  the 
kitchen  clock.  "  Samuel,  will  thee  go  and  visit 
John  Bartlett  or  will  thee  come  in  and  read  the 
'  Liberator  '  and  the  '  Anti-Slavery  Standard,'  or 
maybe  thee  'd  rather  read  '  Thomas  Chalkley's 
Journal,'  or  some  account  of  early  Friends.  Thee  '11 
find  them  very  improving." 

Sam  saw  Margaret  making  a  wry  face  at  the 


A  DAY  INLAND.  173 

mention  of  these  works,  as  if  at  recollection  of  some 
unpalatable  dose  of  childhood,  and  wisely  decided 
to  seek  recreation  in  the  company  of  living  rather 
than  departed  worthies.  He  found  Friend  Bart- 
lett  in  a  stony  field  behind  the  orchard,  persuasively 
urging  a  yoke  of  deliberate  oxen  who  moved  with 
a  slow,  ponderous  progress,  in  apparent  unconscious 
ness  of  the  plow  behind  them,  though  the  tense 
chain  creaked  under  the  constant  strain,  the  share 
groaned  and  grumbled  a  subterraneous  complaint 
among  the  stones,  and  Michael,  bending  between 
the  handles,  grumbled  and  cursed  in  as  continuous 
an  undertone,  which  he  took  good  care  should  not 
be  loud  enough  to  call  a  reproof  from  his  employer. 

Sam  was  greeted  with  quiet  cordiality  by  Friend 
Bartlett,  and,  accommodating  his  long  legs  to  the 
pace  of  the  procession,  enjoyed  a  peripatetic  visit 
till  the  mellow  conch  sounded  for  dinner.  Michael's 
presence  had  prevented  their  speaking  of  what  was 
uppermost  in  their  thoughts,  and  now  that  he  went 
to  the  barn  with  the  oxen  John  Bartlett  said  :  — 

"  Well,  I  guess  our  colored  friend  must  be  safe 
over  the  line  by  this  time." 

"  They  went  off  a-kitin',  anyways,"  said  Sam. 
"  An'  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Bartlett,  I  b'lieve  the' 
's  a  couple  more  on  'em  a-p'intin'  for  Canerdy 
right  in  broad  daylight,"  and  went  on  to  tell  of  the 
two  stage-coach  passengers. 

"  Thee  don't  say  !     In  the  stage  this  morning ! 


174  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

I  had  a  letter  from  one  of  our  friends  in  Middle- 
bury  saying  that  he  had  a  woman  and  her  child  in 
his  house  and  would  send  'em  along  as  soon  as  it 
seemed  safe.  But  I  did  n't  think  he  'd  venture  to 
so  soon  after  they  were  hunting  for  Robert  —  and 
in  this  way.  It  was  a  pretty  bold  stroke,  I  say 
for  it." 

"  Mebby  it 's  the  safest  arter  all,  an'  the'  won't 
nob'dy  mistrust  'at  hain't  on  the  lookout,  for  the 
woman  keeps  her  face  clust  as  ever  you  see,  and 
the  young  un  's  as  white  as  —  as  any  white  young 
un,"  and  Sam  instinctively  looked  toward  the  east 
as  if  he  could  see  through  the  "  Pinnacle  "  to  the 
Danvis  hills,  where  his  own  flaxen-haired  boy 
played  safe  and  free  in  the  shelter  of  the  Green 
Mountains. 

"  They  '11  go  right  to  one  of  our  friends  in 
Burlington,  and  he  '11  put  'em  aboard  of  the  steam 
boat  that  '11  take  'em  right  to  St.  John's,"  said  the 
other.  "  Come,  let 's  go  to  dinner." 

The  neatly  served  meal  and  its  decorous  prelude 
of  silent  grace  forcibly  reminded  Sam  of  the  differ 
ence  between  home  life  and  camp  life,  and  just 
then  the  latter  did  not  seem  quite  the  best,  and  it 
set  him  to  longing  for  his  own  fireside.  This  long 
ing  continued  to  abide  with  him  when  the  quiet 
afternoon  was  half  spent  and  it  was  time  for  him 
to  return  to  camp,  for  which  he  felt  a  kind  of  dis 
gust,  not  lessened  by  the  impression  of  his  enter- 


A  DAY  INLAND.  175 

tamers'  unspoken  conviction  that  his  present  recrea 
tion  was  a  sad  waste  of  time.  He  could  not  take 
their  view  of  it  any  more  than  they  could  under 
stand  his,  but  he  craved  their  good  opinion,  and 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  mere  toleration. 

Till  he  was  out  of  their  sight,  half  way  across 
the  fields,  he  felt  a  shame  that  he  was  ashamed  of. 
Then  a  westerly  waft  brought  him  the  heartening 
fragrance  of  the  autumnal  woods  —  the  odor  of  pine 
and  hemlock  and  ripe  leaves.  Far  behind  him 
he  heard  the  returning  stage-coach  clucking  like  a 
hen  bringing  home  her  brood,  and  presently  after, 
the  joyous  clamor  of  the  freed  school-children,  for 
the  stage-coach  was  the  school-mistress's  clock. 

Unheeding  the  incoming  waterfowl  that  swerved 
aside  or  upward  from  their  impetuous  flight  to  pass 
him,  he  paddled  steadily  down  the  channel,  his 
constant  wake  gilding  the  silver  water  far  behind 
him  with  pulsing  reflections  of  the  sunset  that  were 
reflected  again  in  flickering  shafts  of  duller  gold 
dropping  aslant  down  the  paling  of  marsh,  and  so 
he  came  to  the  end  of  his  peaceful  voyage. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

STORY-TELLING. 

THE  company  had  been  sitting  around  the  fire 
for  some  time  in  meditative  silence,  Antoine  espe 
cially  in  such  deep  thought  that  the  pipe  between 
his  set  teeth  had  gone  out  for  lack  of  draft.  He 
was  racking  his  brain  for  the  invention  of  a  change 
in  the  bill  of  fare,  which  had  become  monotonous 
with  continual  repetitions  of  roast  duck,  fried  duck, 
and  stewed  duck  till  each  variation  needed  a  good 
deal  of  Spartan  sauce  to  make  it  palatable.  At 
last  he  spoke,  without  removing  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth  or  his  gaze  from  the  fire. 

"  Cheekin  pie  was  good,  an'  Ah  '11  b'lieved  dawk 
pie  was  good,  but  Ah  '11  ant  tas'e.  'F  Ah  '11  gat 
hoven  or  bake  pans  an'  somet'ing  for  mek  crus', 
an'  board  for  roll  it,  an'  peg  too,  an'  some  pepper 
we  '11  fregit  for  brought,  an'  t'ree,  four  necessity 
t'ing  Ah  '11  can't  rembler,  Ah  bet  you  head  Ah  '11 
was  mek  you  pie  to-morry  you  can'  heat  'nough  of 
it,  prob'ly.  Ah  '11  got  de  dawk." 

"  It  kinder  seems,"  said  Joseph,  his  mouth 
watering  for  the  prospective  feast,  "as  it  looks 


STORY-TELLING.  177 

naow,  you  'd  hafter  make  us  a  pie  aouten  clear 
duck,  but  I  d'  know  fer  sartain." 

"  You  might  spare  him  some  feathers  for  crust," 
Sam  suggested. 

"  Wai,  M'ri  could  n't,  though  I  da'  say  they  'd 
make  tol'able  light  top  crust." 

"Ann  Twine's. pie  is  some  like  the  feller's  soup 
'at  I  hearii  tell  on,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  fumbling 
absent-mindedly  on  the  log  beside  him  for  a  shoe- 
peg.  "  He  was  a-travelin'  an'  got  short  o'  money, 
or  mebby  he  was  a  reg'lar  beggar,  I  do'  know,  but 
ary  way,  he  stopped  tu  a  haouse  an'  ast  for  some- 
thin'  tu  eat,  an'  they  wouldn't  give  him  nothin'. 
So  he  ast  'em  if  they  would  n't  lend  him  a  kittle 
a  spell  an'  a  spwun,  so  's  't  he  c'ld  make  hisself  a 
kittle  o'  stun  soup,  an'  so  they  did  just  tu  see  what 
he  'd  du.  Wai,  he  built  him  a  fire  side  o'  the 
rwud  an'  sot  a  kittle  o'  water  a-b'ilin',  an'  he  took 
an'  washed  a  stun  'baout  's  big  as  his  fist  an' 
popped  it  int'  the  kittle,  an'  sot  an'  watched  it  b'ile 
a  spell,  an'  then  he  dipped  up  a  spoo'f'l  an'  tasted 
on't. 

"  '  It 's  proper  good,'  says  he,  '  but  it 's  kinder 
fraish,  an'  I  wish  't  I  hed  a  leetle  grain  o'  salt  tu  put 
into  't,'  an'  they  went  and  fetched  him  a  han'f '1 
an'  he  put  that  in. 

"  '  That 's  a  gre't  improvement,'  says  he,  a-tast- 
in'  ag'in,  '  but  it  would  n't  hurt  it  none  if  the'  was 
a  hunk  o'  meat  in  't ;  any  sort  of  a  scrap  'at  you 


178  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

was  a-goiu'  tu  heave  away.  I  hain't  partic'lar.' 
An'  so  they  fetched  him  a  good  hunk  o'  meat  an' 
he  hove  that  int'  the  kittle,  an'  then  says  he,  '  I 
s'pose  you  'd  jes'  's  live  's  I  'd  pull  one  o'  them 
'ere  turnips  over  there  ?  This  'ere  soup  's  goin'  tu 
be  putty  strong  o'  stun  if  it  don't  ha'  some  vege 
tables  in  't.' 

"  So  he  went  an'  got  him  a  turnip,  an'  whilst  he 
was  abaout  it  he  got  an  onion,  an'  he  cut  'em  up 
an'  chucked  'em  in.  An'  when  he  got  it  b'iled  he 
eat  'nough  tu  last  him  tew  days,  an'  says  he, 
a-rubbin'  of  his  stomerk,  '  The'  hain't  nothin'  'at 
makes  better  soup  'n  a  good  stun,  wi'  a  few  leetle 
additions,  an'  I  'm  much  obleeged  tu  ye  for  the  use 
o'  your  kittle,'  says  he." 

"  Dat  was  mek  me  rembler  of  one  man  Canada," 
said  Antoine,  scooping  up  a  coal  with  the  bowl  of 
his  pipe  and  pulling  at  it  with  resounding  smacks. 

"  I  '11  warrant  ye,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  "  I  never 
knew  nothin'  'at  did  n't." 

Antoine  gave  no  heed  to  the  remark,  but  at 
once  began  his  story  when  his  pipe  was  in  blast. 

"  You  see,  dar  was  one  mans  ant  very  good  up, 
an'  he  '11  ant  gat  not'in'  for  heat  on  his  haouse 
'cep'  one  pea  for  all  his  waf  an'  ten  chillens.  He 
tol'  hees  hwomans  for  put  de  pot  on  de  stofe  an' 
full  him  up  wid  water  an'  put  dat  pea  on  it.  Den 
bambye  w'en  he  beegin  fo'  bile  he  look  on  de  pot 
an'  see  dat  pea  jomp  raoun'  all  'lone,  he  say,  '  Dat 


STORY-TELLING.  179 

leetly  pea  was  look  lonesick,  an'  Ah  '11  goin'  see  'f 
Ah  can  fin'  somet'ings  for  hees  company.' 

"  So  he  go  in  de  naght  to  nudder  man's  barn, 
where  dey  was  keel  bif  critter  an'  hang  it  for  cold 
off,  an'  he  was  cut  good  chonk  an'  take  it  on  his 
haouse  an'  t'row  it  in  de  pot  'long  to  de  pea  w'en 
his  waf  he  '11  ant  see.  Bambye  w'en  de  pea  was 
bile  plenty  an'  his  waf  beegin  tas'e  for  heat,  he  say : 

"  '  Bah  gosh,  Ah  '11  ant  never  see  so  pea  lak  dat 
for  mek  soup,  me.'  An  de  mans  tol'  him  :  — 

"  '  You  '11  ant  never  gat  raght  kan'  o'  pea  'fore.'  " 

"  I  guess  it  must  be  the  water  in  your  tew  soups 
'at  makes  me  think  o'  the  way  that  'ere  little  Wat 
Palmer  got  a  pint  o'  rum  aouten  Hamner  here  a 
spell  ago,"  said  Sam,  as  he  broke  a  dry  branch 
across  his  knee  and  slowly  fed  the  fire  with  the 
pieces. 

"  It  wan't  good  rum,  I  '11  bate  ye,"  said  Uncle 
Lisha. 

"  Wai,  sech  as  it  was,  he  got  it  aouten  Hamner 
for  nothin',  which  is  more  'n  most  c'n  du,  an'  he  got 
drunk  as  a  bee  on  't  an'  then  tol'  haow  he  done  it." 

"  Wai,  haow  'd  he  come  it  on  him  ?  " 

"  Wai,  Wat  he  was  dre'f 'lly  dry  an'  not  a  red 
cent  in  his  pocket  nor  nob'dy  tu  treat  him.  So  he 
gits  him  tew  pint  bottles  jest  ezactly  alike  an' 
fills  one  on  'em  wi'  water  an'  sticks  that  intu  one 
cut-tail  pocket  an'  the  empty  one  int'  t'  other  an' 
marches  up  to  Hamner's  bar  's  promp'  's  a  major 


180  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

an'  calls  for  a  pint  o'  the  best  rum.  Bern'  so 
promp'  Hamner  cal'lated  'at  of  course  lie  was  goin' 
tu  pay  ri'  daown,  an'  so  he  drawed  the  sperits  an' 
handed  it  over  to  Wat,  an'  he  tucked  it  in  his 
pocket,  and  says  he,  '  Mr.  Hamner,  you  jest  chalk 
this  daown  ag'in  me  an'  I  '11  pay  for  't  the  nex'  job 
o'  fiddlin'  I  git,'  and  Hamner  said,  not  by  a  jugful, 
he  would  n't,  an'  if  Wat  wan't  goin'  tu  pay  for  't 
then  tu  jest  hand  it  right  back.  Wat,  he  begged 
hard,  but  it  wan't  no  use,  the  money  or  the  liquor 
Hamner  would  hev,  an'  so  Wat  gin  him  the  bot 
tle  o'  water,  a-partiii'  with  't  as  'ough  't  was  his 
heart's  blood,  an'  off  he  went  wi'  the  rum,  an'  in  an 
haour  was  drunker  '11  a  hatter,  an'  Hamner  poured 
the  water  intu  his  barrel,  never  mistrustin',  but 
a-ticklin'  himself  'at  he  'd  saved  iiinepunce,  an'  so 
he  hed,  r'al'y.  But  it  bothered  him  haow  Wat  hed 
got  so  all-fired  drunk." 

"  Wai,  sell,  boy,  if  de  folks  dat  was  went  to 
Hamny  ant  gat  more  as  pant  water  in  de  barrel 
rawm,  it  won't  hurt  dem." 

"Wai,"  said  Joseph,  "it  kinder  seems  as  'ough 
another  pint  o"  water  was  a  leetle  mite  more  'n 
Hamner's  rum  'ould  stan',  accordiii'  tu  my  rec'lec- 
tions  o'  the  taste  on.'t,  but  I  d'  know,  mebby  it 
will." 

The  company  became  silent  again,  each  busy 
with  his  own  thoughts,  till  Aiitoine  began  to  sing 
as  if  to  himself  what  may  have  been  an  improvisa- 


STORY-TELLING.  181 

tion,  but  was  more  likely  a  free  translation  of  an 
old  song :  — 

"  All  tarn  w'en  de  leaf  turn  yeller 
It  mek  it  kan  o'  lonesick,  me, 
For  t'ink  w'en  Ah  '11  was  leetly  feller 

An'  go  sleep  on  mail  mudder's  knee, 
'  Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit !     Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit !  ' 
Same  hoi'  song  she  sing  to  me. 

"  Den  de  folkses  an'  de  medder, 

An'  de  ribber  an'  de  tree, 
Beegin  swimmin'  raoun'  togedder 

W'en  mah  mudder  sing  to  me, 
'  Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit !     Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit !  ' 
So  he  sing  his  song  to  me. 

"  Sometam  Ah  '11  wish  for  be  dat  bebby, 

Jus'  de  sem  Ah  '11  use  for  be. 
Ah  '11  ant  care  'f  he  scol'  it,  mebby, 

'F  Ah  '11  hear  mah  mudder  sing  to  me, 
'  Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit !     Dor,  dor,  dor,  petit ! ' 

Jus'  sem  he  use  for  sing  to  me. 

Sem  mah  mudder  sing  to  me." 

Antoine  pocketed  his  pipe  and  yawned  sleepily, 
"  Wai,  dis  ant  mek  any  dawk  pie.  All  '11  b'lieved 
Ah  can  mek  it  jus'  as  fas'  'f  Ah  go  sleep,"  and  he 
made  his  way  into  the  tent,  whither  the  others 
presently  followed,  Sam  lingering  last  to  scan  the 
patches  of  starlit  sky  between  the  branches,  and 
forecast  the  morrow's  weather. 

Then,  while  the  dying  fire  snapped  itself  out  and 
the  dancing  shadows  sank  into  the  universal  gloom, 
the  tired  hunters  were  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  slow 
wash  of  waves  and  the  low  song  of  the  cedars. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

UNCLE    LISHA   AND   JOSEPH    GO   VOYAGING. 

UNCLE  LISHA  woke  early  from  a  troubled  dream 
of  slaughtered  geese  that  when  picked  tip  changed 
to  a  leering,  disagreeable  man  clad  in  a  garment  of 
feathers  and  a  red  woolen  comforter  tied  about  his 
neck.  As  the  unpleasant  vision  dissolved  in  the 
vanishing  mists  of  dreamland,  his  awakening  senses 
realized  the  dim,  chilling  dawn  of  the  autumn  day, 
its  silver  promise  of  golden  hours,  its  absence  of 
bird  songs,  the  near  stillness  stirred  but  not  broken 
by  far-away  sounds,  the  raucous  call  of  dusky 
ducks,  the  chiming  whistle  of  a  flock  of  golden- 
eyes  already  on  the  wing,  and  the  crazy  laughter  of 
a  distant  loon  calling  the  sleeping  winds. 

These  sounds  became  more  separate  and  distinct 
when  he  crept  forth  into  the  open  air  without  dis 
turbing  his  companions  and  stood  shivering  by  the 
cold  fireplace.  He  heard  what  more  attracted  his 
attention,  the  rustle  of  quick  nervous  footsteps  in 
dry  leaves  near  by  and  a  sharp  "  K-r-r-r,  quit,  quit, 
quit,  quit  "  that  at  once  told  their  origin.  He 
cautiously  drew  his  gun  from  the  tent  and  went  in 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     183 

stealthy  pursuit  of  the  partridge,  which  led  him 
down  to  the  brink  of  the  cliff  before  it  burst  into 
flight  and  went  clattering  far  out  of  sight  among 
the  trees. 

Uncle  Lisha  stared  a  moment  into  the  brief  dis 
turbance  of  branches  along  the  bird's  aerial  path, 
and  then  through  a  narrow  aperture  in  the  green 
wall  of  cedars  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  lake, 
always  an  object  of  admiration  to  him,  a  dweller 
among  the  mountains. 

He  saw  Split  Rock  and  the  farther  shore  of  the 
bay  becoming  distinct  in  the  growing  light,  and 
looming  above  the  low-spread  veil  of  mist,  whose 
nearer  frayed  edge  dissolved  in  the  silvery  sheen 
of  the  water,  smooth  as  glass,  yet  gently  undulat 
ing  with  long  swells  that  were  not  perceptible 
except  as  they  swept  downward  the  lengthening 
reflections  of  Garden  Island  trees,  or  washed  the 
sands  with  recurrent,  slumberous  murmurs. 

As  he  peered  out  upon  the  tranquil  scene 
through  the  narrow  casement  of  boughs,  he  heard 
a  sonorous  gabble  of  voices  mingled  with  the  soft 
wash  of  the  swells,  evidently  close  at  hand,  yet 
coming  from  an  unseen  source,  for  there  was  no 
living  object  in  sight  but  a  small  flock  of  ducks 
crinkling  the  glassy  surface  with  their  wake  just 
in  the  edge  of  the  mist.  Raising  himself  on  tiptoe 
and  looking  nearer,  his  heart  almost  choked  him 
at  the  sight  of  five  noble  geese  standing  midleg 


184  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

deep  in  the  sandy  shallows  almost  beneath  him. 
One  tall  old  gander  stood  on  guard,  stretched  to 
his  utmost  height,  while  his  companions  delved  in 
the  submerged  gravel. 

With  breathless  caution  the  old  man  trained  his 
gun  upon  them.  Remembering  all  he  had  ever 
heard  of  the  danger  of  overshooting  in  downhill 
shots,  and  aiming  low  at  two  that  stood  in  range, 
the  trigger  was  pulled,  the  mimic  thunder  rolled 
across  the  bay,  and  as  the  multiplied  echoes  came 
tumbling  back  from  distant  hills  and  shores  the 
lifting  smoke  unveiled  two  sprawling  forms  floun 
dering  in  the  shallows  and  a  brief  vision  of  the 
survivors  climbing  skyward  with  flurried  wing- 
beats. 

He  knew  not  how,  but  with  a  speed  and  safety 
that  seemed  in  him  miraculous,  Uncle  Lisha  de 
scended  the  cliff  and  secured  his  victims. 

"  There  you  be,  anyway !  "  he  panted  as  he  stood 
exultantly  regarding  them,  "an'  if  you  're  tame 
wiT  geese  you  're  almighty  smart  ones,  an'  if  any 
dumb  man  claims  ye  he  '11  be  an  almighty  smart 
one  if  he  gits  ye  away  f 'm  your  Uncle  Lisher  !  " 

Casting  a  furtive  glance  around,  he  gathered 
them  by  the  legs,  carefully  examined  their  necks  for 
any  hidden  mark  of  ownership,  and  made  all  haste 
along  the  beach.  Though  he  had  not  far  to  go 
to  reach  camp,  his  breath  was  well-nigh  spent,  his 
short  old  legs  were  weak,  and  his  arm  ached  with  a 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.      185 

pain  that  lie  was  proud  of  when  he  had  climbed  the 
steep  path,  and  bracing  himself  for  a  final  effort, 
held  up  his  game  before  his  gaping  comrades. 

"  There,  boys,"  he  cried,  "  haow  '11  that  du  for  a 
'fore  breakf us'  job  ?  I  tell  ye  it 's  the  airly  bird 
'at  gits  the  worm.  These  'ere  geese  is  the  birds  an' 
I  'm  the  worm." 

Then  in  response  to  a  shower  of  questions  he 
related  all  the  incidents  of  his  exploit,  while  each 
of  his  companions  "  hefted  "  the  geese  separately 
and  together  and  burned  with  envy  or  glowed  with 
admiration. 

"  An'  naow  le  's  ha'  some  breakfus',''  he  cried 
when  the  recital  was  concluded,  "  for  it 's  hungry 
work  a-huntin'  geese  an'  strainin'  work  a-luggin' 
on  'em,  as  you  may  not  know,  but  I  du." 

"  I  s'pose  you  won't  hev  no  'bjections  tu  my 
hevin'  the  feathers  if  I  '11  pick  'em  ?  "  Joseph  asked 
as  they  sat  around  the  stone  table,  and  between 
bites  he  turned  his  eyes  upon  the  geese,  and  with 
slow  rumination  calculated  their  yield  of  down. 

"  Not  a  ident'cal  feather  comes  off  'm  them 
geese  till  they  gits  tu  Danvis,  an'  Jerushy  an'  the 
hull  consarn  on  'em  sees  'em  jest  as  they  be, 
feathers  an'  all.  No,  sir,"  the  old  man  continued 
with  increasing  emphasis,  as  he  waved  the  half- 
picked  thigh  of  a  duck  in  the  direction  of  the  sub 
ject  of  his  remarks,  "  the'  ain't  a-goin'  tu  be  nothin' 
duberous  abaout  them  'ere  geese,  ner  nob'dy  a-twit- 


186  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

tin'  on  me  'at  they  're  someb'dy  'nother  's  tame 
geese  'at  I  shot." 

"  Prob'ly  you  '11  goin'  prove  it  by  de  smell  of  it 
too,  One'  Lasha !  Dey  was  git  purty  hoi'  'nough 
for  smell  w'en  you  gat  it  home." 

"  I  '11  resk  but  what  they  '11  keep  three,  four 
days,  an'  you  '11  be  a-goin'  hum  by  that  time,  won't 
ye,  Samwil  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  guess  we  '11  git  'nough  on 't  by  that 
time,"  Sam.  answered.  "  An'  I  would  kerry  'em 
jest  as  they  be  if  I  was  you,  for  they  're  better 
worth  showin'  'an  anything  we  've  got  erless  it 's 
aourselves.  What  be  you  an'  Jozeff  goin'  tu  du 
t'day?  Me  an'  Antwine  's  a-goin'  up  the  Saouth 
Slang  tu  hunt  some  an'  see  the  Injins  make  the' 
canew.  Want  tu  go  'long  up  in  the  scaow  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  sca'cely  b'lieve  we  du,  du  we, 
Jozeff?  I  be'n  a-cal'latin'  tu  gwup  the  crik  a 
piece  some  day  an'  see  an  ol'  feller  'at  I  useter 
know  time  o'  the  war  'at  I  hain't  seen  for  fifteen 
year,  an'  I  guess  if  Jozeff  's  a  min'  ter  go  an'  hunt 
along  up  that  way  hi  the  scaow,  we  '11  go.  I  'd 
ruther  see  an  ol'  friend  'an  all  the  dumb  b'ilin'  o' 
Injins  in  the  'Nited  States,  an'  I  don't  care  no  gre't 
'baout  seein'  'em  make  a  canew.  If  't  was  mocker- 
sins,  it  might  be  interestin'.  What  say,  Jozeff  ?  " 

Joseph  pondered  long  before  he  answered,  cast 
ing  doubtful  glances  out  upon  the  creek  while  he 
slowly  mopped  his  plate  with  a  bit  of  bread. 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     187 

"  Wai,  I  do'  know,  sca'cely,  Uncle  Lisher.  Du 
you  understan'  haow  tu  oar  a  boat  an'  gee  an'  haw 
it  ?  'Cause  ye  see  I  don't,  an'  the  plaguey  dumb 
things  goes  a-shoolin'  raoun'  jest  where  they  're  a 
minter,  a  dumb  sight  contrayer  'n  a  hawg,  seem  's 
'ough.  I  cal'late  they  got  it  'baout  right  when 
they  called  'em  she.  I  do'  know  but  what  it  can 
be  1'arnt,  but  I  kinder  reckon  a  feller 's  got  tu  hev 
the  gift  o'  maiiagin'  on  'em,  same  as  o'  women 
folks,  which  some  hain't  ner  can't  git.  Naow  if 
't  was  M'ri  er  Ruby,  I  should  know  jest  haow  tu 
go  tu  work,  but  darn  a  boat,  anyways." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  Jozeff,  't  ain't  nothin'  to 
manage  ary  one.  You  jest  got  tu  humor  'em, 
that 's  all.  I  can  run  that  scaow  boat  anywheres 
on  this  'ere  crik,  I  bate  ye." 

"  Wai,  if  you  c'n  du  it,  it 's  all  right,  an'  I  '11  go, 
but  if  you  hafter  depend  any  on  me,  we  shan't  git 
anywheres  ner  nowheres  else." 

Joseph's  doubts  being  overcome,  they  set  forth 
on  their  voyage,  Uncle  Lisha  at  the  oars,  shaping 
his  course  by  frequent  glances  over  his  shoulder. 

The  weather  was  in  the  genial  mood  that  autum 
nal  days  often  assume  as  if  to  make  amends  for 
later  sullenness  and  turbulence.  The  sun  shone 
warm  and  bright,  and  the  genial  air  was  stirred  by 
so  light  a  breeze  that  it  only  wrinkled  the  outer 
channel  with  ripples  that  flashed  back  the  sunlight 
and  repeated  the  azure  of  the  sky  in  quavering 


188  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

lines  of  blue,  cut  athwart  by  gold  and  russet  reflec 
tions  of  farther  woods  and  nearer  rushy  margins. 
The  marshes  were  webbed  so  thick  with  a  veil  of 
spiders'  weaving  that  they  looked  as  if  a  hoar  frost 
lay  upon  them,  while  the  sun  threw  a  glade  of  bur 
nished  gold  across  the  broad  silvery  level,  broken 
by  the  curving  seam  of  the  channel  and  the  brown 
domes  of  the  muskrat  houses. 

Uncle  Lisha  pulled  an  even,  steady  stroke,  but 
a  noisy  one,  with  a  creak  and  splash  that  awoke 
echoes  and  aroused  flocks  of  wildfowl,  while  the 
boat  snored  placidly  on  its  course,  its  broad  bow 
seeming  to  exhale  long  respirations  as  it  met  the 
ripples  with  a  decadent  surge.  A  party  of  crows 
came  out  of  the  woods,  cruising  overhead  in  a  brief 
tour  of  observation,  whereof  they  made  discordant 
report  as  they  flapped  back  to  cover.  A  kingfisher 
sallied  from  his  perch  to  meet  the  voyagers  with  a 
rattling  volley  of  clatter  that  did  not  cease  till  he 
slanted  in  upward  flight  to  a  steadfast  poise  above 
a  shoal  of  minnows,  into  which  he  presently  plunged 
like  a  plummet,  and  then  retired  in  silence  to  his 
Lenten  breakfast. 

So  they  pursued  the  voyage,  Uncle  Lisha  too 
busily  employed  and  Joseph  in  too  great  trepidation 
for  much  conversation,  till  the  mouth  of  the  South 
Slang  was  passed,  when  the  latter  cleared  his 
throat  and  remarked  :  — 

"  I  tell   ye  what  't  is,  Uncle  Lisher,  it  kinder 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     189 

seems 's  'ough  a  feller  'd  feel  consid'able  stiddier  an' 
safer  on  one  o'  them  'ere  mushrat  haousen  'an  what 
he  does  a-bolancin'  hisself  in  this  'ere  plaguey  ol' 
wobblin'  boat,  seems  's  'ough  he  would." 

"  He  would  n't  git  fur  on  one  on  'em,  I  don't 
cal'late,"  the  old  man  answered. 

"  Mebbe  he  might  git  fur  in  'em,"  said  Joseph, 
feeling  guilty  for  venturing  to  pun  in  such  a  peril 
ous  situation  ;  but  Uncle  Lisha  did  not  deign  to 
notice  it  and  he  continued  in  serious  vein.  "But 
ye  see  I  hain't  wantin'  tu  go  nowher',  on'y  tu  git 
aout  ont'  the  land  ag'in,  which  the'  hain't  no  chance 
o'  duin'  here,  'ceptin'  I  land  on  one  o'  them  mushrat 
haousen." 

Uncle  Lisha  vouchsafed  no  answer,  but  half 
turned  in  his  seat  to  study  his  course,  thereby 
slightly  tipping  the  scow. 

"  Sam  Hill !  Look  aout !  "  cried  Joseph,  pulling 
hard  on  the  gunwale.  "  You  '11  hev  the  dumb  tot- 
tlish  consarn  t'  other  side  up  fust  ye  know !  " 

"  Go  'long  wi'  your  nonsense,"  Uncle  Lisha  an 
swered.  "  You  could  n't  tip  it  over."  In  proof 
whereof  he  wagged  his  head  and  shoulders  from 
side  to  side  and  raised  a  wash  that  shook  the  boat, 
yet  not  so  much  as  it  did  Joseph. 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake  stop  it,  Uncle  Lisher,"  he 
pleaded,  "  I  can't  swim  no  more  'n  a  grin'stun." 

"  Nob'dy  wants  ye  tu.  You  jes'  sit  still  an'  I  '11 
navigate  ye."  Uncle  Lisha  smiled  benignly  as  he 
resumed  his  stroke. 


190  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  Set  still  ?  It  don't  seem  's  'ough  I  could,  no 
more  'n  on  a  hetchel,  an'  the  tarnal  boat  won't  let 
me.  Say,  Uncle  Lisher,  I  wanter  git  aout  an'  set 
on  a  mushrat  liaouse  till  you  come  along  back. 
Like  'nough  I  c'ld  shoot  a  mushrat  er  suthin'." 

"  Sho,  the'  would  n't  none  come  anigh  ye." 

"  Wai,  I  don't  care  if  they  would  n't.  I  've  rid 
fur  'nough,  an'  don't  want  to  go  nowheres !  You 
back  up  tu  that  big  one  an'  le'  me  git  aout.  My 
back  aches  an'  my  laigs  cramps,  an'  I  'm  dizzy- 
headed  an'  sick  tu  my  stomerk  an'  I  don't  feel  very 
well  myself.  You  le'  me  git  aout." 

"  Why,  Jozeff,  be  you  in  ri'  daown  airnest  ? " 
Uncle  Lisha  asked,  resting  his  oars.  Joseph's 
scared  face  gave  sufficient  answer  without  supple 
ment  of  speech. 

"  Yes,  I  be.  It  seems  's  'ough  I  would  n't  ask 
for  nothin'  in  this  world  'an  tu  be  sot  on  suthin'  'at 
would  n't  tottle  every  time  I  drawed  my  breath  or 
rolled  my  eye.  You  jest  lemme  git  aout." 

"  Sho,  now  don't  be  sech  a  'fraid-cat.  It  hain't 
more  'n  a  miled  furder  tu  where  we  're  a-goin',  an' 
then  you  can  huff  it  back  tu  camp,  'crost  the  bridge 
an'  so  raound." 

"  I  tell  ye  I  've  rid  fur  'nough.  You  back  up 
an'  lemme  git  aout.  Come  now,  du,  Uncle  Lisher. 
Whoa !  Back !  S-h-s-h  !  Dumb  the  plaguey  ol' 
contr'y  thing  !  Whoa  !  Hush  !  " 

"  Wai,   if  you  will,  you  will,  I  s'pose,"  Uncle 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     191 

Lisha  said,  stopping  the  scow's  headway  with  a 
great  surge  of  the  oars  and  backing  her  in  the 
direction  of  the  largest  muskrat  house.  "But 
you  '11  git  turrible  lunsome,  an'  you  can't  move 
raound  none." 

"  I  've  moved  raound  'nough  tu  last  me  a  month. 
An'  I  '11  be  contented  as  a  clam  a-waitin'  fer  ye. 
Seems  's  'ough  I  would  till  —  till  the  ma'sh  froze, 
so  I  c'ld  walk  ashore." 

The  slanting  stern  of  the  scow  slid  up  the  sloped 
side  of  the  house,  and  Joseph,  hitching  his  gun. 
along  beside  him,  crawled  out  on  all  fours  to  the 
top,  where  he  seated  himself  with  a  sigh  of  intense 
relief. 

"  There,  naow,  if  't  wan't  fer  thinkin'  o'  gittin' 
away  f 'm  here,  I  sh'ld  be  as  independent  as  a  man 
on  the  taown.  You  need  n't  hurry  none  'baout 
comin'  back.  Seems  's  'ough  I  wanted  consid'able 
time  tu  git  settled  an'  rested  up  an'  look  raound." 

"  Guess  you  '11  git  settled  an'  sick  on 't  'fore  I  git 
aout  o'  sight.  If  ye  du,  you  holler,  an'  I  '11  come 
back  an'  git  ye.  Good-by." 

Uncle  Lisha  bent  to  his  oars  and  with  a  strong 
pull,  assisted  by  a  push  of  Joseph's  foot,  resumed 
his  course,  continuing  it  with  moderate  speed  till 
quite  out  of  sight,  in  momentary  expectation  of  a 
recall.  He  passed  the  mouth  of  the  East  Slang 
and  the  long  curve  of  the  reach  above  it,  when  he 
came  where  shore  and  channel  became  neighborly 


192  UNCLE  LIBRA'S  OUTING. 

at  a  sandy  landing,  the  cleanliest  of  all  the  old 
homestead  ports  that  the  inland  voyager  finds  be 
tween  the  lake  and  the  first  falls  of  Little  Otter. 
He  pulled  in  at  the  foot  of  a  great  elm  and  stepped 
out  on  the  flint-strewn  shore,  stretching  his  legs  and 
straightening  his  back  before  he  beached  his  boat 
and  climbed  the  breast-high  bank,  which  was  cut 
to  a  steep  incline  by  the  wash  of  the  spring  floods, 
and  overhung  with  a  fringe  of  naked  roots  of 
shrubs  and  grass. 

A  level  meadow  lay  before  him,  the  rank  after 
math  dappled  with  purple  heads  of  the  second  blos 
soms  of  clover  and  starred  with  late  daisies.  Be 
yond  it  a  farmhouse  and  barns  nestled  among  locust, 
•cherry,  and  apple  trees,  and  a  footpath  led  to  it  from 
the  landing.  This  Uncle  Lisha  followed  till  the 
old  house  assumed  a  familiar  appearance  as  he  ap 
proached  it  from  the  unaccustomed  direction.  The 
smoke  of  an  outdoor  fire  drifted  up  from  behind  a 
row  of  cherry-trees  that  bordered  the  garden,  and 
with  it  broken  clouds  of  steam  that  diffused  a 
savory  odor  of  mixed  cookery,  the  old-time  hog's 
hotch-potch  of  pumpkins,  potatoes,  and  apples. 

When  his  feet  brushed  the  plantain  and  scuffed 
the  chips  of  the  back  yard,  Uncle  Lisha  came  close 
upon  the  source  of  the  smoke  and  steam,  a  great 
potash  kettle  slung  to  a  thick  pole  by  a  log  chain 
over  a  brisk  fire  of  stubborn  odds  and  ends  of  the 
wood-pile.  A  wiry  little  man  of  about  his  own 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     193 

age  was  sidling  around  the  windward  side  of  the 
fire,  punching  it  here  with  a  wooden  poker,  kicking 
it  there  with  a  quick  thrust  of  his  cowhide  boot, 
and  then,  pulling  a  hat  apparently  as  old  as  himself 
well  over  his  brows  and  sinking  his  chin  deep  into 
the  grizzled  ruff  of  beard  that  surrounded  his 
throat,  stooped  and  peered  into  the  bubbling  kettle, 
getting  brief  glimpses  of  wallowing  chunks  of 
pumpkins,  bursting  potatoes,  and  dropsical  apples. 
He  was  in  this  position  as  Uncle  Lisha  approached 
in  the  rear,  and  touched  him  lightly  on  the  most 
prominent  part  of  his  person  with  his  gun.  The 
guardian  of  the  kettle  was  not  at  all  startled,  but 
only  called  out  without  turning  his  head  :  — 

"  Hy,  ye  leetle  sarpint,  tryin'  tu  skeer  yer  gran'- , 
dad,  be  ye  ?  " 

Uncle  Lisha  touched  him  again,  when,  making 
a  sudden  clutch  with  his  free  hand,  he  caught  the 
stock  of  a  gun.  Then  he  quickly  faced  about,  the 
look  of  surprise  growing  on  his  face  when  it  met 
the  complacent  grin  on  another  face  as  old  as  his 
own  and  on  a  level  with  it.  The  expression  of 
blank  amazement  softened  to  one  of  pleased  recog 
nition  when  the  visitor  roared :  — 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas !  Abil,  don't  ye  know 
me  ?  "  and  the  host  responded  in  a  higher  pitched 
but  as  hearty  a  voice :  — 

"  Why,  Lisher  Peggs,  you  goo'  for  nothin'  ol' 
sinner,  is  it  you  ?  Where  'n  time  'd  you  come 


194  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

from,  an'  haow  be  ye,  anyway  ?  "  and  the  hands  of 
the  old  friends  clasped  each  other  in  a  vise-like 
grip.  "  I  never  thought  o'  it  a-bein'  nobody  ner 
nothin'  but  some  o'  the  young  uns  a-foolin'. 
They  're  keen  ones,  I  tell  ye.  But,  by  hokey,  I  'm 
glad  tu  see  ye.  Where  'd  ye  come  from,  anyway, 
an'  haow  be  ye  ?  "  Abel  Benham  ran  on  in  an  un 
interrupted  flow  while  he  lugged  a  block  of  wood 
in  front  of  the  fire.  "  There,  set  ri'  daown  an' 
make  yourself  tu  hum.  Got  yer  pipe  ?  Wai, 
here 's  some  terbarker.  Light  up  an'  le  's  have  a 
smoke."  While  he  filled  his  own  pipe  he  stood  off 
and  made  a  critical  examination  of  his  friend, 
beaming  upon  him  a  slow  smile  of  approval. 
"  Wai,  ye  look  jest  as  nat'ral  as  an  ol'  shoe. 
Leetle  older  an'  a  leetle  fatter,  but  jest  as  humbly 
as  ever.  Where  'd  ye  come  from,  anyway  ?  " 

Uncle  Lisha  accounted  for  his  presence,  and  the 
two  fell  into  a  discourse  concerning  past  experiences 
till  Abel  bethought  him  of  another  hospitable  of 
fering. 

"  Say,  there 's  a  berril  o'  cider  'at 's  worked 
some.  'T  hain't  very  sartain,  but  it 's  better  'n 
water.  Won't  ye  ha'  some  ?  " 

He  brought  a  brimming  quart  dipper  of  it,  from 
which  they  drank  in  turn,  and  Uncle  Lisha  gave 
it  the  usual  compliment  of  "  being  good  for  the 
time  o'  year,"  while  he  thought  of  poor  Joseph  in 
thirsty  isolation.  They  ate  the  mellowest  apples 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND   JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     195 

in  the  variegated  fragrant  pile  that  was  flanked  by 
a  yellow  mound  of  pumpkins  on  one  side  and  on 
the  other  by  a  great  heap  of  potatoes,  blushing  a 
dusky  red  through  the  clinging  soil.  When  con 
versation  lagged  Uncle  Lisha  was  taken  to  see  the 
hogs,  which  were  duly  admired  and  their  weight 
guessed,  while  a  treat  of  back-scratching  and  corn 
nubbins  made  the  visit  a  mutual  pleasure.  Then 
the  dinner -horn  sounded,  and  the  visitor  was 
forced,  not  much  against  his  will,  to  partake  of  a 
bountiful  meal,  served  in  civilized  fashion,  which 
he  realized  was  the  better  and  more  comfortable 
way,  for  he  was  beginning  to  tire  of  eating  with  his 
fingers  and  sleeping  in  his  clothes,  and  of  the  un 
tidiness  of  womanless  housekeeping,  and  he  was 
glad  to  eat  food  nicely  cooked,  unseasoned  with 
smoke  and  ashes,  off  a  clean  plate,  in  the  compan 
ionship  of  women  and  children,  and  finish  the 
meal  with  a  dessert  of  pumpkin  pie,  so  dear  to  the 
Yankee. 

Now  and  then  he  had  brief  mental  visions  of 
Joseph  munching  his  dry,  unsocial  repast  on  the 
roof  of  the  marsh  dweller's  hut,  and  felt  some 
qualms  of  pity  for  his  friend's  solitary  plight ;  but 
both  were  as  fleeting  as  they  are  apt  to  be  when 
one  in  the  midst  of  plenty  considers  the  condition 
of  the  wretched. 

Not  till  he  noticed  how  his  shadow  had  length 
ened  while  he  smoked  and  chatted  beside  the  wan- 


196  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

ing  fire  did  he  realize  how  long  poor  Joseph  had 
been  left  in  solitary  exile.  Then  he  bade  his 
friend  farewell  and  set  forth  on  his  return. 

With  a  long  and  strong  pull  Uncle  Lisha  sent 
the  scow  surging  down  the  channel,  and  though  he 
grew  scant  of  breath  with  the  unwonted  exertion, 
he  abated  not  the  length  nor  strength  of  his  stroke 
till  he  drew  near  the  place  where  his  comrade  had 
been  left,  frightening  scores  of  ducks  to  unnoticed 
flight  a  furlong  in  advance  of  his  noisy  progress. 

Then  he  began  to  look  forward,  the  lifted  oar 
blades  dripping  a  dotted  wake  while  he  turned  his 
head,  or  trailed,  bumping  the  gunwales  and  creat 
ing  a  succession  of  miniature  whirlpools  while  he 
twisted  his  short  body  for  a  long  look  ahead.  Dis 
covering  no  one,  he  became  anxious,  but  tried  to 
quiet  his  feelings  with  the  idea  that  he  had  mis 
taken  his  reckoning,  and  again  plied  the  oars 
vigorously,  casting  frequent  glances  on  either  side. 
Presently  he  passed  a  muskrat  house  that  he  was 
sure  must  be  the  one  upon  which  he  had  left  his 
companion,  for  it  was  the  largest  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  the  weeds  in  front  were  pressed  flat 
where  the  boat's  stern  crushed  them  down,  and  in 
further  proof  of  its  identity  a  piece  of  paper  that 
had  held  Joseph's  luncheon  lay  on  the  shelving 
verge,  one  sodden  half,  anchoring  the  other  that 
fluttered  in  the  light  wind. 

Uncle  Lisha  checked  the  boat's  headway  with  a 


UNCLE  LISHA  AND  JOSEPH  VOYAGING.     197 

backward  stroke  and  headed  toward  the  house,  call 
ing  out  as  he  approached  it,  with  his  face  over  his 
shoulder,  in  a  deprecatory  tone  :  — 

"  There,  naow,  Jozeff,  you  need  n't  try  tu  hide 
ye.  You  can't  skeer  me  wi'  your  foolin'.  Git 
right  up  an'  git  right  in  here." 

There  was  no  response,  and  as  the  bow  grounded 
with  a  soft,  semi-elastic  bump  he  called  again, 
rather  impatiently,  at  the  same  time  getting  upon 
his  feet  and  facing  about :  — 

"  Come,  naow,  quit  your  foolin'  an'  git  in  here." 

His  face  became  blank  with  amazement  as  he 
peered  over  the  top  of  the  muskrat  house  and  saw 
only  the  naked  slope  of  its  farther  wall. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  has  the  critter  got  asleep 
an'  rolled  off  an'  draownded  hisself  ?  "  he  cried  in 
real  alarm,  then  took  an  oar  and  gently  prodded 
the  shallow  water  on  all  sides,  but  met  only  the 
soft  resistance  of  the  oozy  bottom. 

"'Shaw,  he  couldn't  never,"  he  assured  himself. 
"  'T  ain't  deep  enough,  an'  he  'd  ha'  left  his  gun. 
But  what  on  airth  can  ha'  become  on  him  ?  If 
he  'd  ha'  waded  ashore  he  'd  ha'  left  a  track  in  the 
ma'sh  like  a  tew-year-oP  steer,  an'  he  could  n't  git 
through  the  mud,  anyways.  The'  hain't  be'n  no 
boat  come  along  'at  he  da'st  go  in.  Where  in  tun- 
ket  has  the  critter  gone  ?  Jozeff !  Jozeff  !  Jozeff !  " 
he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  called,  first  accenting 
and  prolonging  the  first  syllable,  then  the  second, 


198  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

and  then  both,  but  there  came  no  answer  save  the 
mocking  echoes  repeating  his  call  from  the  woods. 

"  Con-dumb  the  tarnal  fool !  Wha'  'd  he  wanter 
go  tu  roost  on  a  mushrat  haouse  for  anyhaow, 
julluk  a  cussed  mudhen  ?  "  the  old  man  growled  in 
a  tremulous  voice  when  he  had  taken  breath  after 
futile  listening.  "  And  wha'  'd  I  ever  let  him  for  ? 
I  'd  give  all  my  ol'  boots  an'  shoes  tu  see  him  a 
settin'  in  this  'ere  boat  ag'in.  Yis,  sir,  I  would." 

He  looked  long  and  carefully  all  around  far  and 
near,  and  then  shoved  off  into  the  channel  and  re 
suming  the  oars  pulled  lustily  toward  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A   CKTJSOE   OP   THE   MARSHES. 

JOSEPH  HILL  stretched  his  cramped  limbs  with 
a  sense  of  great  relief  to  both  body  and  mind  while 
he  watched  the  scow  pass  out  of  sight  around  the 
next  bend,  and  caught  the  last  glimpse  of  Uncle 
Lisha's  hat  rising  and  falling  with  slow  regularity 
behind  the  tops  of  the  marsh  growth.  The  clank 
and  splash  of  the  oars  faded  out  of  hearing,  and  as 
far  as  he  could  see  or  hear  he  was  the  sole  human 
occupant  of  the  marshes. 

Now  and  then  a  duck  could  be  heard  quacking  a 
lazy  call  to  comrades  or  uttering  a  startled  note  of 
alarm,  and  occasionally  the  quick,  pulsing  whistle 
of  passing  wings,  and  far  away  on  the  lake  the  wild 
cry  of  a  loon,  and  high  overhead  the  petulant  scream 
of  a  hawk.  Close  at  hand  there  was  an  infrequent 
rustle  and  splash  of  some  invisible  inhabitant  of 
the  marshes,  but  Joseph  listened  intently  before  he 
could  catch  the  faintest  sound  of  human  life,  such 
as  the  rumble  of  a  distant  wagon  or  ox-cart,  or  the 
mellowed  shout  of  the  teamster  coming  to  him  as 
if  from  a  different  world  from  that  which  held  his 


200  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

indolent  environment.  He  was  quite  contented 
with  the  isolation  and  the  quietude  as  he  sat  at 
ease  on  the  soft  but  stable  roof  smoking  his  pipe 
and  patiently  waiting  for  something  to  come  and  be 
killed. 

Presently  a  huge  pickerel  appeared  like  an  appa 
rition  in  the  dooryard  of  the  muskrat,  his  cruel 
eyes  and  mottled  sides  shining  with  a  magnified 
gleam  through  the  clear,  still  water  that  barely 
covered  his  dorsal  fin.  Joseph  had  a  mountain 
eer's  admiration  for  this  species,  and  deemed  such 
a  specimen  a  worthy  trophy.  His  heart  almost 
stood  still  as  he  realized  the  opportunity  for  secur 
ing  such  a  noble  prize.  He  made  a  cautious  move 
ment  to  bring  his  gun  to  bear  upon  it,  but  the 
wary  fish  detected  it  and  dashed  away  with  a 
sudden  surge  that  tore  the  smooth  surface  into 
boiling  eddies.  Joseph  dodged  as  if  a  blow  had 
been  struck  him  and  gasped  his  disappointment. 

"  Gosh  darn  the  luck  !  Wan't  he  a  wolloper, 
though  !  Wai,  the'  hain't  no  feathers  on  him,  any 
way!" 

Comforting  himself  with  this  qualified  consola 
tion,  he  set  to  patient  waiting  again,  with  some 
hope  that  his  recent  visitor  might  return.  The 
last  ripple  subsided  and  the  schools  of  minnows, 
recovered  from  their  fright,  began  to  dart  back 
into  the  restored  quiet  of  the  pool,  when  its  sur 
face  was  moved  by  the  sluggish  undulation  of  an 


A   CRUSOE  OF  THE  MAESHES.  201 

under  wake,  then  silently  broken  as  a  muskrat's 
head  appeared,  regarding  the  strange  occupant  of 
its  abode  with  a  grim  curiosity  that  would  have 
been  alarming  if  exhibited  by  a  larger  animal.  The 
creature  remained  quite  motionless,  while  Joseph 
with  the  utmost  caution  raised  his  gun  to  a  deadly 
aim,  and  at  such  short  range  that  it  occurred  to  him, 
as  his  finger  tightened  on  the  trigger,  that  the  furry 
skin  would  be  riddled  into  worthlessness,  and  he 
had  no  desire  for  wanton  destruction. 

"  I  shall  blow  ye  all  tu  flinders,  I  know  I  shall," 
he  whispered  to  himself  as  his  finger  relaxed.  His 
left  foot  was  drawn  well  under  him,  his  arm  rest 
ing  across  his  bent  knee  and  supporting  the  long 
gun  barrel.  "  If  he  'd  swim  off  jes'  a  leetle  mite 
furder,"  he  soliloquized  as  he  looked  straight  into 
the  fierce  deep-set  little  eyes,  "  it  seems  jes'  's  'ough 
I  might." 

Suddenly  his  heel  slipped  down  the  sloping  wall, 
the  gun  barrel  as  suddenly  descended,  and  the 
muskrat  dived  with  a  splash  like  the  plunge  of  a 
ten-pound  shot.  It  is  said  that  the  scream  of  a 
panther  and  the  plunge  of  a  muskrat  will  startle 
the  steadiest  and  most  accustomed  nerves  as  often 
as  heard  or  seen,  and  Joseph  jumped  as  if  he  had 
suffered  the  double  shock. 

"  Gosh  all  Connecticut !  "  he  ejaculated,  gasp 
ing  as  if  he  himself  had  been  plunged  in  the  cold 
water.  "  Why  don't  ye  scare  a  feller  aouten  his 


202  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

boots !  I  snum,  I  most  wish  I  'd  ha'  let  ye  hev, 
an'  spottered  ye  all  over  the  ma'sh,  seems  's  'ough 
I  did,  a' most." 

Gradually  he  recovered  his  equanimity  and  now 
gave  his  attention  to  feathered  game  ;  but  though 
he  lay  close  on  the  back  side  of  the  house,  hoping 
that  some  passing  flock  or  single  bird  might  chance 
to  alight  in  the  channel  within  gunshot,  all  such 
espied  him  and  veered  off  with  swifter  flight  or 
climbed  higher  above  him,  giving  his  poor  ambus 
cade  a  wide  berth.  Only  once  a  flock  of  teal, 
following  the  channel  in  low  flight  as  if  it  was  a 
path,  flashed  past  him,  slanting  lower  with  set 
wings  to  alight,  but  dropped  out  of  sight  beyond 
the  next  bend  before  he  heard  the  fluttering  splash 
that  told  of  their  descent.  After  a  while  they  re 
appeared,  swimming  down  stream  in  a  devious  way, 
circling,  ducking,  diving,  and  nibbling  the  water, 
till  at  last  they  started  with  a  sudden  impulse 
directly  toward  him.  His  gun  was  leveled  upon 
them,  the  muzzle  gradually  lowering,  and  shaking 
with  the  tumultuous  beating  of  his  heart  as  they 
drew  nearer.  Now  they  were  almost  within  certain 
range,  and  his  finger  began  to  press  the  hard  trig 
ger  and  his  teeth  were  set  in  expectation  of  the 
inevitable  recoil,  when  all  at  once  they  became  sus 
picious  of  the  singular  appearance  of  an  old  felt 
hat  showing  above  the  top  of  a  muskrat  house,  and 
with  one  accord  sprang  to  flight  and  vanished  like 
wind-blown  smoke. 


A   CRUSOJK  OF  THE  MARSHES.  203 

"Wai,  it  does  beat  Sam  Hill  what  tarnal  luck  I 
du  hev  right  stret  along  this  hul  endurin'  day! 
But  them  wan't  nothin'  but  leetle  pindlin'  teal. 
I  b'lieve  the'  wan't ;  not  much  meat  on  'em,  an' 
the  feathers  mere  nothin'  !  But  I  swan,  I  wish  I  'd 
ha'  got  'em !  " 

Half  an  hour  passed,  and  he  was  drowsy  with 
lying  in  the  warm  sunshine,  when  he  was  aroused 
by  a  stir  of  the  rushes  close  by  the  nearest  musk- 
rat  house,  and  then  saw  a  large  dusky  gray  duck 
swim  out  of  the  weeds  and  climb  boldly  and  delib 
erately  to  its  top.  The  slow  upward  movement  of 
Joseph's  gun  was  arrested  by  the  thought  that  this 
could  not  be  a  wild  duck,  and  he  congratulated 
himself  that  he  had  not  obeyed  his  first  impulse. 

"  It 's  a  dumb  putty  idee,  folks  a-lettin'  the' 
poultry  run  loose,  hither  an'  yon,  an'  then  make 
folks  pay  for  'em  when  they  git  shot  accidental." 
Then  Joseph  addressed  the  duck  aloud :  "  Do  ye 
know  'at  you  come  almighty  nigh  a-gittin'  shot, 
you  ol'  fool?" 

The  bird  stood  bolt  upright  and  stretched  its 
neck  to  the  utmost,  and  Joseph,  clambering  to  the 
top  of  the  house,  swung  his  hat  and  shouted 
lustily  :  — 

"  G'  'long  home,  you  ol'  fool,  'fore  someb'dy 
shoots  ye !  Shew !  " 

The  duck  squatted  and  sprang  into  the  air  with 
rapid  wing-beats,  uttering  discordant  quacks  of 


204  UNCLE  LISUA'S   OUTING. 

terror,  and  shrank  to  a  wavering  speck  in  the  dis 
tance,  while  Joseph  gaped  at  the  vanishing  form  in 
blank  and  speechless  amazement. 

"  The  very  ol'  scratch  is  in  everything  !  "  he 
said  at  last,  and  sat  down,  laying  his  gun  aside  as 
if  he  had  no  further  use  for  it.  "  Dumbed  if  I  try 
tu  shoot  anything,  an'  I  wish  't  Uncle  Lisher  'd 
come  along  back." 

He  took  his  luncheon  from  his  pocket  and  ate  it 
slowly,  more  to  pass  away  the  time  than  to  appease 
hunger.  The  droughtiness  of  the  repast  was  aggra 
vated  by  the  abundance  of  unpalatable  water  that 
surrounded  him,  clear  and  bright  to  the  eye,  but 
saturated  with  rank-flavored  weeds  and  nauseous 
to  a  mountaineer's  palate  accustomed  to  draughts 
from  ice-cold  springs.  The  channel  was  ruffled  by 
the  light  northerly  breeze,  and  as  he  watched  the 
swift  ripples  continually  flickering  past  it  seemed 
as  if  he  on  the  artificial  islet  was  being  carried  as 
rapidly  in  the  opposite  direction  by  the  current. 
At  times  slight  tremors  were  imparted  to  the  house 
by  some  violent  movement  of  its  inmates,  and  this 
added  to  the  impression  of  its  instability  till 
Joseph's  head  swam,  and  he  could  not  convince 
himself  that  he  was  not  afloat,  though  his  relative 
position  to  surrounding  objects  remained  unchanged. 

"  I  don't  see  why  in  Sam  Hill  Uncle  Lisher 
don't  come  along !  Wonder  'f  he 's  hired  his 
board  up  there?  I  know  this  'ere  haouse  hain't 


A   CRUSOE  OF  THE  MARSHES.  205 

floatin'  off,  but  it  seems  jes'  's  'ough  it  was,  an'  I 
do'  know  but  what  them  tormented  mushrats  is 
undermindm'  on  't,  an'  '11  let  me  daown  kerswash 
fust  I  know !  Shew !  Ye  plaguey  leetle  torments, 
scat ! "  he  shouted  as  he  pounded  the  side  of  the 
house  with  fists  and  heels. 

So  passed  an  hour  of  discomfort  and  apprehen 
sion,  relieved  at  last  by  the  welcome  sound  of  an 
approaching  boat,  which  he  doubted  not  was  the 
long  expected  craft  of  Uncle  Lisha.  But  when 
with  provoking  slowness  it  appeared  around  the 
bend,  he  saw  an  unfamiliar  figure  stooping  and 
rising  to  the  deliberate  strokes  of  the  oars,  that, 
though  wielded  with  the  skill  of  an  experienced 
oarsman,  shrieked  and  clanked  in  doleful  discord 
in  their  unlubricated  swivels.  Two  short  fish-poles 
protruded  from  either  side,  and  the  fisherman,  who 
wore  a  black  felt  hat  and  a  red-backed  waistcoat, 
now  and  then  ceased  rowing  to  overhaul  his  lines, 
and  once  to  boat  a  big  pickerel  that  Joseph  could 
hear  thrashing  the  boat's  bottom  to  the  accompani 
ment  of  the  shrieking  swivels  when  their  music  was 
resumed. 

Joseph  had  an  impression  that  he  had  seen  the 
ancient  hat  and  red-backed  waistcoat  before,  and 
when  the  boat  passed  him  and  its  occupant's  pro 
file  was  revealed,  he  recognized  the  stolid  features 
of  Uncle  Tyler,  with  whom  he  had  had  a  brief  ac 
quaintance  during  a  previous  voyage  on  these 


206  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

waters.  Remembering  the  old  man's  deafness  he 
hailed  him  lustily,  but  the  unconscious  face  gave 
no  sign  and  the  regular  rise  and  fall  of  the  oars 
was  uninterrupted.  Joseph  drew  in  his  lungsful  of 
air  and  let  it  out  in  a  hail  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  Uncle  Lisha  himself ;  but  if  the  old 
fisherman  heard  it,  he  mistook  the  direction  from 
which  it  came,  for  he  turned  his  head  the  other 
way. 

"  Hello  there  !  "  Joseph  repeated ;  "  come  he-ere ! 
Help !  murder  !  fi-er." 

But  Uncle  Tyler  did  not  become  aware  of  him 
till  he  had  rowed  quite  past,  and  saw  him  prancing 
about  on  the  narrow  footing  of  the  muskrat  house 
and  frantically  swinging  his  hat. 

"  Was  you  a-speakin'  tu  me  ?  "  he  bawled  in  an 
unmodulated  tone  as  he  ceased  rowing.  "  What 
ye  want  ?  What  ye  duin'  on  top  o'  that  'ere 
mushrat  haouse?  Where  's  your  bwut?" 

"  Hain't  got  no  boat !  Come  back  here  an'  git 
me!" 

"  No,  I  hain't  got  no  terbarker.  Sent  up  tu  the 
store  by  a  feller  tu  git  me  some  last  night,  but  he 
forgot  it.  Smoked  my  last  pipeful  a-comin'  long 
daown." 

"  Gol  dumb  it,  come  back  here  an'  take  me  int' 
your  boat ! "  Joseph  howled  till  his  voice  cracked. 
"  I  '11  give  ye  all  the  terbarker  I  've  got,"  and  he 
beckoned  with  his  hat,  reinforcing  the  signal  by 


A   CRUSOE  OF  THE  MARSHES.  207 

waving  a  blue  paper  of  Lorillard's  long  cut.  This 
had  the  desired  effect  upon  the  old  man's  compre 
hension,  and  after  carefully  winding  in  his  trolling 
lines,  he  put  about  and  ran  in  to  Joseph,  who 
crept  eagerly  but  cautiously  on  board  the  scow. 

"  Git  hit'  the  starn  there  !  "  Uncle  Tyler  com 
manded. 

"  Int'  the  what  ?  "  Joseph  asked  at  the  top  of 
his  voice. 

"  Int'  the  starn !  the  starn !  "  Uncle  Tyler  re 
peated  as  loudly,  indicating  the  direction  with  all 
the  fingers  of  one  hand. 

"  Starn  ?  "  Joseph  repeated,  still  unenlightened, 
as  he  crouched  011  hands  and  knees  beside  the  an 
cient  mariner  and  shouted  in  his  ear,  while  he 
scanned  the  after  part  of  the  scow  with  a  puzzled 
face.  "  I  don't  seem  tu  see  iiothin'.  Guess  you 
forgot  tu  fetch  it,  did  n't  ye  ?  " 

"  Good  land  o'  massy !  You  do'  know  no  more 
'baout  a  bwut  'an  a  hen !  "  Uncle  Tyler  declared 
in  disgust.  "  Go  an'  set  daown  in  that  'ere  seat. 
That  'ere 's  the  starn  an'  t'  other  eend  's  the 
bow,  an'  this  'ere  's  'midships.  There,  sed  daown 
an'  gin  me  that  terbarker." 

Joseph  obeyed  the  last  command  first  and  crept 
to  his  designated  place,  steadying  himself  with  a 
hand  on  either  gunwale  as  he  picked  careful  foot 
steps  among  seven  or  eight  large  pickerel  that  lay 
dead  or  at  the  last  gasp  on  the  slippery  floor. 


208  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

These  he  had  time  to  admire  while  Uncle  Tyler 
leisurely  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  remarking  as 
he  did  so  :  — 

"  I  sent  up  tu  the  store  for  some  terbarker  las' 
night  by  a  feller,  but  he  forgot  it." 

"  You  are  some  nigher  gittin'  on  't  'an  you  was 
four,  five  year  ago,"  said  Joseph.  "If  I  don't 
disremember  you  forgot  tu  send  for  it  then.  I 
should  n't  wonder  but  what  like  'nough  you  'd  git 
ye  some  in  four,  five  year  more."  But  the  old 
man  chose  not  to  hear  him  till  he  asked  in  no 
louder  voice,  "  Why  did  n't  ye  stop  the  boat  when 
I  hollered  fust  ?" 

"  Did  ye  holler  afore  ?  Wai,  naow,  I  hear'd 
suthin',  but  I  reckoned  't  was  n't  nothin'  but  Har 
ris's  bull  a-bellerin'.  I  wan't  a-lookin'  for  nobody 
rwustin'  on  a  mushrat  haouse.  Haow  come  ye  here 
anyway  ?  " 

"  I  got  left  here,"  Joseph  shouted. 

"  Deaf  in  yer  left  ear  ?  Can't  ye  hear  me  ? 
Turrible  disagreeable  tu  be  deaf,  I  s'pose,  most 
ev'rybody  speaks  so  low  naow-er-days.  I  ast  ye 
haow  ye  come  here  —  on  this  mushrat  haouse  ? 
Onderstand  ?  " 

"  Come  in  a  boat !  Got  on  here  tu  shoot 
ducks !  " 

"  Ooh,  tu  shoot  ducks,"  said  Uncle  Tyler,  back 
ing  his  scow  into  the  channel.  "  Yes,  yes,  'spected 
tu  find  ducks  in  a  mushrat  haouse  !  Wai,  wal, 


A   CRUSOE  OF  THE  MARSHES.  209 

that 's  a  cur'us  idee."  The  old  man  gave  way  to 
an  expression  of  mirth  which  was  like  the  laughter 
of  a  ghost,  being  without  sound.  Having  got  his 
boat  and  his  pipe  well  a-going,  Uncle  Tyler  was 
enabled  to  observe  his  passenger  more  closely, 
when  a  gleam  of  recognition  lighted  up  his  stolid 
face. 

"  Good  land  o'  massy !  "  he  mumbled,  trying  to 
speak  with  the  pipe  wabbling  between  his  gums 
and  then  letting  the  oars  trail  that  he  might  re 
move  it  for  freer  speech.  "  I  b'lieve  I  've  seen 
you  afore !  Wan't  you  daown  here  afore,  last 
year  or  year  afore,  or  some  'er's  along  there,  you 
an'  another  feller  'at  did  n't  know  no  more  '11  you 
du  'baout  a  bwut ;  gin  me  a  polt  top  o'  the  head 
wi'  an  oar  —  hain't  you  one  on  'em?"  He  took 
off  his  hat  and  searched  for  the  exact  spot  on  his 
bald  pate  as  if  to  establish  evidence  or  refresh  his 
memory. 

"  Yes,  I  b'lieve  I  was  one  o'  the  ones,"  said  Jo 
seph,  and  proceeded  to  give  a  loud  and  brief  account 
of  himself  and  friends,  to  which  the  old  man,  as  he 
plied  the  oars,  listened  as  well  as  he  could  with  his 
pipe  preventing  the  opening  of  his  mouth,  which 
he  apparently  depended  upon  as  much  as  his  ears 
as  an  organ  of  hearing.  When  Joseph  concluded 
with  the  relation  of  his  latest  adventure  his  auditor 
fell  into  another  silently  boisterous  laughter,  which 
brought  on  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  and  after  that 
he  recovered  speech. 


210  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  Oh,  good  land'  o'  massy !  You  must  be  sick 
for  tu  think  ducks  'ould  come  tu  ye  settin'  right  in 
plain  sight.  Wai,  wal,  you  must  be  sick !  I  '11 
tell  ye  haow  tu  shoot  ducks  if  ye  won't  tell  nobody. 
You  jest  take  an'  shove  a  slab  way  aout  int'  the 
aidge  o'  the  ma'sh  an'  sprinkle  a  mess  o'  oats  onto 
't,  an'  you  fix  ye  up  a  bough  haouse  so  't  you  can 
rake  it  eendways,  an'  bimeby  when  the  ducks  dis- 
kiver  the  bait  and  git  wonted  they  '11  come  there 
reg'lar  to  feed,  an'  then  you  lay  low  fer  'em  airly 
in  the  mornin'.  Mebby  you  '11  ketch  a  hull  slabf  ul 
on  'em  a  feedin'  tu  oncte,  an'  then,  sir.  you  c'n  rip 
up  the  hull  magazine.  That 's  the  way  tu  shoot 
ducks  !  You  c'n  git  'em  that  way  !  Any  lunk 
head  can  !  Naow  you  take  an'  let  aout  one  o'  them 
trollin'  lines  an'  ketch  a  pickerel.  You  do'  know 
's  you  can  ?  Wal,  any  dumb  fool  can  heng  a-holt 
of  a  pole,  an'  yarn  in  a  fish  arter  he  's  ketched 
hisself .  I  guess  you  can,  an'  you  'd  orter  git  a 
good  one  a-goin'  by  the  Saouth  Slang." 

Joseph  was  diffident,  but  otherwise  not  loath  to 
accept  a  chance  of  redeeming  his  ill  luck,  and  awk 
wardly  paid  out  one  of  the  clumsy  lines  while  his 
skilled  companion  handily  got  the  other  to  its  work, 
though  his  attention  was  also  given  to  keeping  the 
boat  moving  in  its  proper  course,  his  pipe  in  blast, 
and  a  critical  oversight  of  Joseph's  management  of 
the  tackle. 

"  I  do'  know  ezackly,"  the  latter  shouted,  bring- 


A   CRUSOE  OF  THE  MARSHES.  211 

ing  his  mouth  to  bear  on  the  other,  after  some  in 
tent  moments  of  watching  his  line,  "but  it  most 
seems 's  'ough  I  druther  ketch  a  whoppin'  big 
pickerel  'an  tu  shoot  a  duck,  seems  's  'ough  I 
druther,  tu-day." 

"  Wai,  like  'nough  you  '11  git  you  're  druther," 
Uncle  Tyler  responded,  and  sure  enough  when  his 
lure  was  trailing  past  the  mouth  of  the  South 
Slang  it  was  arrested  by  a  sullen,  vicious  pull  that 
made  the  stout  pole  bend  like  a  drawn  bow  and 
brought  Joseph's  heart  into  his  throat  at  one  leap. 
Remembering  the  lesson  of  a  former  year,  he  drew 
the  tip  of  the  pole  forward  till  he  could  lay  hold  of 
the  line  and  then  hauled  it  in  hand  over  hand. 
Then  amid  a  conflict  of  hopes  and  fears  he  saw  a 
monster  pickerel  coming  toward  the  boat  with  jaws 
as  wide  open  as  if  he  had  an  intention  of  swallowing 
it  and  the  crew.  Good  fortune  and  a  stout  line  and 
hook  combined  to  favor  Joseph  in  getting  the  fish 
on  board  in  spite  of  flustered  awkwardness,  and 
he  was  fairly  faint  with  pride  and  thankfulness 
when  he  saw  his  prize  at  his  feet  threshing  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  and  snapping  the  wide  jaws, 
toothed  as  cruelly  as  a  wolf  trap.  In  the  midst  of 
his  excitement  he  did  not  notice  that  Uncle  Tyler 
had  quit  rowing  and  was  calmly  hauling  in  his  own 
strained  line  till,  with  an  easy  motion,  the  old  man 
lifted  a  fish  as  big  as  his  own  into  the  boat,  remark 
ing  as  he  did  so  :  — 


212  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

"  That 's  the  way  tu  ketch  a  pickerel !  " 

Thence  to  the  landing  at  the  willows  the  voyage 
was  occasionally  enlivened  by  the  capture  of  a  fish, 
and  arriving  there,  Joseph  offered  the  hospitalities 
of  the  camp  to  his  rescuer,  unlimited  tobacco  and 
such  victuals  as  the  place  afforded  in  the  absence 
of  the  cook. 

In  consideration  of  their  mutual  obligations, 
they  became  very  friendly  and  conversed  so  con 
stantly  and  loudly  that  the  arrival  of  Uncle  Lisha's 
boat  was  unheard,  as  was  his  no  less  noisy  ascent 
of  the  path,  slipping,  stumbling,  and  puffing  asth- 
matically. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas  !  Be  you  here,  Jozeff  ? 
I  snum,  I  never  was  tickleder  tu  see  a  man  in  this 
livin'  airth.  Why  in  time  did  n't  ye  stay  where 
you  was  till  I  come  ?  What  d'  ye  wanter  git  on 
there  for  anyway  ?  " 

With  alternate  expressions  of  mirth,  vexation, 
and  rejoicing  over  his  safe  return,  he  listened  to 
Joseph's  relation  of  the  adventures  of  his  exile, 
which  Joseph  ended  with  a  solemn  declaration 
that  he  would  never  again  under  any  circumstances 
embark  in  any  craft  smaller  than  a  canal  boat,  no 
matter  how  he  might  be  tempted  by  fish  or  fowl. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

AROUND    THE    FIRE. 

THE  two  uncles  of  all  their  acquaintances  got 
on  exceedingly  well  together,  for  it  transpired  that 
Uncle  Tyler  had  been  a  Plattsburg  volunteer, 
which  was  a  close  bond  of  friendship,  and  in  their 
exchange  of  reminiscences  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  the  other,  who,  he  said,  "  talked 
jest  as  folks  used  tu." 

"  Some  on  'em  says  'at  I  'm  a-gittin'  deaf,  but  I 
tell  'em  it 's  'cause  they  don't  speak  plain.  The' 
don't  nobody,  sca'cely,  naow-er-days.  But  I  can 
hear  you  a-talkin'  jest  as  plain  as  I  could  hear  the 
cannon  tu  Plattsburg.  An'  the'  wan't  no  trouble 
o'  hearin'  them,  was  the'  ?  " 

"  No,  ner  the  hollerin'  nuthcr,"  said  Uncle 
Lisha. 

"  Da  you  reckerleck  haow  that  minister  hol 
lered  ? "  continued  the  other.  "  He  come  from 
over  your  way  somewher's,  cap'n  of  a  comperny 
he  was,  all  the  menfolks  of  his  congregation  his 
comperny  was,  an'  he  got  'em  all  squatted  daown 
behin'  a  stun  wall,  an'  when  the  British  come 


214  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

a-marchin'  up,  some  on  'em  kep'  a-stickin'  of  the' 
heads  up  an'  a-peekin'  at  'em,  an'  the  minister  he 
kep'  a-tellin'  011  'em  tu  lay  low,  but  they  would  n't, 
for  all  naow  an'  ag'in  one  on  'em  would  git  a 
chunk  o'  lead  in  his  head  which  it  spilte  him  fer 
fightin',  till  bimeby  the  minister  he  got  mad  an' 
damned  'em  up  hill  an'  daown  an'  grabbed  a  mus- 
kit  an'  swore  he  'd  shoot  the  fust  one  'at  peeked 
over  the  wall.  Yes,  he  did  ;  damned  'em  right  tu 
the'  heads.  An'  so  arter  he  got  hum  they  hed  a 
church  meetin'  an'  hauled  the  minister  over  the 
coals  for  cussin',  an'  by  gol,  sir,  they  voted  tu 
'scuse  him,  'cause  they  'lowed  his  swearin'  was  a 
military  needcessity." 

Uncle  Tyler  indulged  in  such  immoderate  silent 
laughter  over  his  story  that  he  brought  on  a  violent 
fit  of  coughing,  from  which  he  recovered  after  so 
protracted  a  struggle  for  breath  that  his  enter 
tainers  were  relieved  to  see  him  depart  homeward 
before  he  should  die  on  their  hands. 

"  He  's  a  crabbed  ol'  creetur,  but  he  's  got  his 
goodp'ints,"  Uncle  Lisha  remarked,  as  they  watched 
him  rounding  the  great  bend,  his  pipe  in  full  blast 
and  puffing  with  the  regularity,  if  not  quite  the 
volume,  of  a  high-pressure  steamboat.  "Deaf 
folks  an'  blin'  folks  lives  in  worlds  by  theirselves, 
still  worlds  an'  dark  worlds,  an'  I  cal'late  it  makes 
a  man  sort  o'  crabbed  tu  live  by  hisself.  But  the 
ol'  creetur  lies  got  his  good  p'ints." 


AROUND   THE  FIRE.  215 

"  Yes,"  Joseph  assented,  "  so  he  lies,  an'  it 
kinder  seems  's  'ough  his  best  ones  was  oarin'  a  boat 
an'  ketchiii'  fish,  an'  I  do'  know  but  borryin'  ter- 
barker  in  a  way  'at  you  can't  deny  him,  'cause  he 
allers  meant  tu  ha'  lied  some  o'  his  own.  But  he 
is  a  tumble  man  tu  oar  a  boat  an'  a  turrible  man 
tu  ketch  pickerels.  I  do'  know  's  I  ever  see  a 
more  one.  An'  iiaow  I  s'pose  these  'ere  'at  he 
helped  me  ketch  has  got  tu  be  dressed." 

He  heaved  a  sigh  of  resignation  as  he  slowly 
drew  his  jackknife  from  his  pocket  and  as  slowly 
opened  the  rickety  blade,  while  his  eyes  made 
deliberate  selection  of  a  worthy  subject  for  his 
skill.  This  he  laid  upon  a  convenient  slab,  and 
began  the  task  with  increased  courage  when  he  saw 
Uncle  Lisha  opening  his  knife  with  an  evident  in 
tention  of  lending  a  helping  hand.  As  they 
scraped  gray-green  backs,  spotted  sides  and  silvery 
bellies  to  an  even  whiteness,  and  beguiled  the  most 
irksome  of  the  angler's  labors  with  friendly  dis 
course,  they  heard  Sam's  return  heralded  by  occa 
sional  shots  faintly  echoed  far  up  the  Slang,  then 
saw  the  infrequent  puffs  of  powder  smoke  whisked 
away  by  the  wind  before  the  tardy  report  burst  on 
their  ears,  with  briefer  intervals,  till  the  light  birch 
canoe  came  swimming,  swift  and  silent,  around  the 
last  bend  like  a  great  duck,  and  glided  into  port 
close  beside  them. 

Antoine  rejoiced  over  the  prospective  change  in 


216  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

the  bill  of  fare  from  fowl  to  fish,  and  promised  such 
skill  in  cookery  as  should  no  less  gladden  the 
others. 

"Oh,  bah  gosh.'  Ah '11  tol'  you,  Zhozeff,"  he 
cried,  as  he  sidled  around  with  his  arms  akimbo 
when  they  were  not  engaged  in  gesture,  and  his 
head  tilted  to  one  side  and  the  other,  in  inspection 
of  the  progress  of  the  work,  "  w'en  you  '11  gat  dat 
peekrils  scrope  so  he  white  lak  snowballs,  Ah  '11 
goin'  cook  him  so  you  '11  wish  you  was  kingfish'n' 
bird  an'  heat  feesh  every  day,  all  de  tarn,  sem  lak 
one  man  Canada." 

Uncle  Lisha  scraped  his  fish  softly  while  he  lis 
tened  in  expectation  of  a  story,  but  Antoine  seemed 
to  have  forgotten  that  he  had  one  to  tell,  though 
the  old  man  prompted  him  with  an  interrogative 
"Wai?" 

"  Wai,"  he  repeated  after  a  while,  "  I  've  allers 
be'ii  wantin'  tu  hear  suthin'  abaout  a  man  in  Can- 
erdy,  an'  if  you  've  got  anythin'  tu  tell  le'  's  hev 
it.  But  whilst  you  're  a-talkin',  Ann  Twine,  you 
might  be  a  rippin'  one  o'  these  'ere  fish." 

"  No,  seh,  One'  Lasha,  Ah  '11  can't  oversaw  de 
work  an'  tol'  de  storee  an'  work  mahse'f  all  de 
once." 

"  Wai,  tell  yer  story  then,  if  you  've  got  it 
thought  up.  You  wouldn't  half  clean  the  fish  if 
you  sot  aout  tu." 

"  Wai,  seh,  One'  Lasha,"  Antoine  began,  as  he 


AROUND   THE  FIRE.  217 

deliberately  filled  his  pipe,  "  great  many  while  'go, 
w'en  de  tarn  was  hoi',  dar  was  one  man  Canada  was 
lak  for  feesh  so  much  he  ant  do  mos'  not'ing  but 
dat.  Wen  his  corn  ought  for  be  plant  his  waf 
was  plant  it,  if  he  gat  plant  't  all,  an'  he  go  feeshin'. 
Wen  his  corn  was  ought  for  be  hoe,  he  go  feeshin'. 
Wen  it  was  tarn  for  cut  off,  his  waf  cut  it  off,  an' 
de  mans  go  feeshin'  an'  de  sem  for  husk  it,  an'  jes' 
de  sem  for  rip  his  wheat,  an'  t'rash  it,  his  waf  he 
do  it,  all  of  it.  An'  w'en  his  hwood  was  ought 
for  be  cut  he  go  feeshin'  in  de  ice.  An'  w'en  de 
Govny  want  it  for  go  faght  de  Hinjin  an'  de  Ang- 
leesh,  he  '11  run  'way  an'  go  feeshin',  so  bamby  de 
pries'  he'll  gat  mad  at  it  an'  he  tol'  it  'f  he  ant 
'have  hese'f  for  be  so  shiflin',  he  goin'  turn  it  into 
kingfishin'  an'  den  see  'f  he  '11  gat  'nough  feeshin'. 

"  De  mans  he  some  scare  an'  promise  for  be 
better,  'fore  soon  he  fregit  an'  go  feeshin'  all  de  tarn 
jes  de  sem.  Den  de  pries',  Oh,  haow  he  '11  was  mad 
an'  turn  dat  man  into  kingfishin'  raght  off.  De  man 
he  was  supprise  prob'ly,  for  feel  hese'f  such  leetly 
feller  all  cover  wid  fedder,  but  pooty  soon  he  feel 
glad  for  t'ink  he  '11  ant  gat  for  wear  clo's  dat  was 
trouble  for  git,  an'  can  go  feeshin'  all  de  tarn. 

"  He  go  up  de  river, l  K-r-r-r-r,'  an'  he  go  daown 
de  river,  '  K-r-r-r-r,'  an'  wen  he  see  leetly  feesh, 
'baout  so  big  he  can  swaller,  '  splosh',  he  jomp  on 
it  an'  flew  on  a  tree  for  heat  it  an'  say,  '  T'ank 
you,  Pere  Jerome,  it  was  funs  for  be  kingfishin'.' 


218  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

When  he  was  flew  pas'  hees  hown  haouse  on  de 
river  an'  see  hees  waf  homp  hees  back  hoein'  an' 
rippin'  in  de  sun  an'  hees  chillren  cry  for  hongry 
he  '11  holler  '  K-r-r-r,'  jes'  lak  he  was  laught  at  it, 
he  such  gre't  wicked. 

"  Wai,  seh,  he  '11  had  good  tarn  all  summer  an' 
long  in  de  fall  'fore  it  come  col'.  Den  he  ant  hear 
de  sing  bird  yaller  any  more  'cause  dey  all  gone 
'cep'  de  jay  an'  de  hwoodpeckit ;  den  de  river  froze 
on  top,  but  he  '11  ant  know  'nough  for  go  to  de 
warm  wedder.  He  guess  he  was  be  liable  for  stay 
jes'  long  anybody.  One  morny  de  river  was  be 
froze  on  top,  but  he  '11  ant  know  when  lie  go  for 
his  breakfis'  an'  he  go  '  K-r-r-r,'  lookin'  for  see 
some  f eesh,  an'  bamby  he  '11  see  leetly  f eesh  swim 
under  de  ice  an'  he  holler  '  K-r-r-r-r '  an'  go  firs' 
head  raght  on  top  of  it,  '  Floop,'  an'  bus'  his  head 
on  de  ice  an'  broke  his  brain  all  off  an'  dat  was  de 
en'  of  it." 

"  Sho,  Ann  Twine,  you  'd  a  gre't  sight  better 
be'n  a-dressin'  fish  'an  a-wastin'  your  time  a-tellin' 
sech  a  dumb  lie !  "  Uncle  Lisha  commented. 
"Naow  you  rence  'em  off  an'  kerry  'em  up  tu 
camp,  fer  Jozeff  an'  me  lies  done  aour  sheer." 

While  Uncle  Lisha  made  his  way  to  the  water 
side  with  hands  and  knife  held  abroad  till  he 
stooped  to  cleanse  them,  Antoine  began  washing 
the  fish,  protesting  meanwhile  :  — 

"  Oh,  One'  Lasha,  you  was  want  me  tol'  it.     You 


ABOUND   THE  FIRE.  219 

was  jes'  lak  man  feeshin'  an'  git  leetly  bite,  an' 
he  keep  feeshin'  for  ketch  it,  an'  w'en  he  ketch  it, 
it  was  punkin  seed,  an'  he  mad  'cause  it  ant  bull 
pawt.  It  bes'  was  for  be  satisfy.  Naow,  hurrah 
for  de  suppy !  " 

With  that  they  bore  their  fish  to  camp,  where 
Sam  had  preceded  them  and  got  the  fire  in  full 
blast.  Presently  Antoine  pranced  around  it  in  a 
culinary  ecstasy,  while  the  others  watched  him  in 
rapt  regard  and  grew  hungrier  with  every  whiff 
borne  to  their  nostrils  from  the  screeching  pan. 
When  at  last  they  sat  down  to  their  rock  table 
Uncle  Lisha  heaved  a  sigh  of  satisfaction  as  he 
adjusted  his  spectacles  for  detection  of  bones. 

"  Ah-h-h !  This  'ere  's  suthin'  like.  The  fact 
on  't  is,  I  've  eat  duck  till  I  'm  a-gittin'  web- 
footed." 

"  An'  bah  gosh !  Ah  '11  pull  up  some  fedder  on 
mah  back  dis  morny.  Ah  '11  was  put  it  on  Zho- 
zeff's  bag  if  you  ant  believed  it." 

"  I  swan,  Antwine,"  said  Joseph,  "  if  you  '11  let 
'em  grow  all  over  ye,  I  '11  pick  ye  at  the  halves." 

"  Say  what  you  're  a  mintur,"  said  Sam,  "  a 
good  fat  duck  hain't  tu  be  sneezed  at.  I  cal'late 
them  leetle  teal  ducks  is  the  ch'icest  eatin',  and 
wood  duck  next,  an'  black  duck  next,  but  any  on 
'em 's  good  enough  for  poor  folks.  Arter  all,  the'  's 
more  fun  in  gettin'  on  'em  'an  the'  is  a-hevin'  on 
'em,  same  as  it  is  in  most  all  huntin'  an'  fishin'  in 


220  UNCLE  HSILi'S   OUTING. 

the  true  sperit.  I  guess  it  's  a  feller's  soul  'at 
enj'ys  it.  But  then  ag'in  the'  's  dawgs  'at  enj'ys 
it,  and  folks  says  they  hain't  got  no  souls,  but  I 
don't  b'lieve  it." 

"  Ner  I  nuther,"  said  Uncle  Lisha.  "  I  've  seen 
some  dawgs  an'  some  hosses  'at  thinks  more  'n 
some  men  du  an'  reasons  aout  things  tew." 

"  Yes,"  Sam  continued, "  an'  jest  think  o'  hurnern 
fools  an'  tew-legged  hawgs  a-goin'  tu  heaven,  an' 
good  dawgs  'at  thinks  an'  dreams  an'  sticks  tu  ye 
through  thick  an'  thin  a-goin'  aout  intu  no  thin'.  It 
hain't  no  fair  shake  !  I  cal'late  dreamin'  is  a  sign 
of  a  soul.  The  body  's  all  asleep,  but  the'  's  suth- 
in'  keeps  a-goin'  on  a-thinkin'  arter  a  fashion,  an' 
what  is  't  if  't  hain't  a  soul  ?  You  never  heard  a 
hawg  du  nothin'  on'y  snore  when  he  sleeps,  but 
you'll  hear  a  leetle  bird  in  the  dead  o'  night  an' 
darkness  a-singin'  aout  on  his  rwust  suthin'  he  hed 
left  over  from  daytime,  so  faint  an'  fur  off,  you 
know  he  's  asleep.  An'  a  dawg  '11  show  'at  the'  's  a 
part  on  him  a-huntin'  in  his  sleep  jest  as  much  as 
folks  feels  tu  be  when  they  're  asleep.  A  dawg 's 
got  some  advantage  over  us  in  not  hevin'  no  gun 
tu  git  off.  It 's  cur'us  'at  a  dream  gun  never  will 
go  off.  You  pull  till  you  shet  your  teeth  an'  eyes, 
an'  when  the  hommer  falls  it  goes  daown  abaout  's 
quick  as  a  wiltin'  weed  an'  abaout  as  heavy,  an'  your 
dumb  gun  won't  go  off.  But  what  I  was  a-goin' 
tu  say,  a  haoun'  dawg  '11  foller  a  fox  all  day  an'  all 


ABOUND   THE  FIEE.  221 

night  a-singin.'  glory  halleluiah  all  the  time,  an' 
when  you  shoot  the  fox  afore  him  he  '11  on'y  jest 
chaw  his  backbone  a  minute  an'  give  him  a  shake 
an'  then  curl  up  an'  lay  daown  as  comf'table  as 
a  kitten  an'  jest  as  contented.  His  stomerk  's  as 
empty  as  a  contribution  box,  but  his  soul  is  satis 
fied  jest  as  much  as  a  man's  is.  But  I  'm  a-losin' 
my  chance  o'  gittin'  my  supper,  a-gabbin' !  Shove 
the  fryin'  pan  this  way,  Antwine." 

When  they  had  their  fill  of  fish  they  enjoyed 
their  loaf  by  the  fire  and  recounted  the  day's  do 
ings.  Sam  and  Antoine  told  of  the  Indians'  pro 
gress  in  canoe-building,  Joseph  his  brief  experience 
of  Crusoe  life,  and  Uncle  Lisha  of  his  visit  to  his 
old  friend  and  his  alarm  at  Joseph's  disappearance. 

"  I  did  n't  know  but  them  'ere  nigger  hunters 
hed  kerried  the  creatur'  off,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
knovv'd  they  'd  bring  him  back  arter  they  'd  tried 
workin'  on  him  an'  boardin'  on  him  a  spell.  But 
I  tell  ye  I  was  glad  tu  find  the  creatur'  a-hollerin' 
to  that  ol'  Tyler,  'cause  I  feel  kinder  'caountable 
for  his  safe-keepin'." 

"  I  druther  hev  a  deaf  man  tu  talk  tu  'an  not  tu 
hev  nob'dy,  if  it  is  strainin'  work,"  said  Joseph, 
caressing  his  throat  with  a  tender  touch.  "  Gol, 
my  throat 's  all  furred  up." 

"  Dat  was  feeshbone,  prob'ly.  You  '11  ant  wan' 
heat  more  hurry  as  you  spoke,  Zhozeff." 

After  planning  how  to  spend  the  morrow,  which 


222  UNCLE  LIBRA'S  OUTING. 

was  to  be  their  last  day  in  camp,  they  turned  into 
their  blankets  and  drowsed  into  restful  sleep  to  the 
sound  of  the  crickets'  faint,  monotonous  complaint 
and  the  fleeting  whistle  of  passing  wings. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

SUNGAHNEETOOK. 

SAM'S  comrades  were  in  delicious,  semi-torpid 
enjoyment  of  a  morning  nap  when  he  quietly  left 
his  place  among  them  and,  after  making  a  break 
fast  of  stealthily  gathered  fragments,  set  forth  in 
fulfillment  of  a  promise  made  to  himself  of  a  day 
alone  in  Sungahneetook,  the  fish-weir  river  of  the 
old  Waubanakees.  He  was  not  unsocial,  but  yet 
at  times  was  fonder  of  solitude  than  of  company. 
Like  a  true  lover  of  nature,  he  desired  not  to  go 
with  a  crowd  to  woo  his  mistress. 

Creek  and  lake  were  thickly  shrouded  in  a  tat 
tered  web  of  mist  whose  gray  shreds  slowly  undu 
lated  in  the  motionless  air,  disclosing  near  glints 
of  unruffled  silver  water  and  farther  away  brief 
glimpses  of  russet  and  green  marsh,  beyond  which 
the  unveiled  forest  glowed  in  the  faint  dawn  with 
all  the  divers  hues  of  autumnal  flame.  Every  sin 
gle-pointed  willow  and  many-pointed  maple  leaf 
was  giving  its  contribution  to  the  slow  shower  of 
crystal  drops  that  pattered  on  rushes  and  fallen 
leaves,  or  tinkled  on  the  quiet  waters.  The  soft 


224  UNCLE  LISIIA'S  OUTING. 

continuous  sound  was  punctuated  at  intervals  by 
the  louder  voices  of  awakening  life,  the  sharp 
whistle  of  passing  wings,  the  raucous  diminuendo 
of  a  duck's  call.  Then  came  from  afar  inland  the 
challenge  of  a  cock,  the  mellow  lowing  of  kine  and 
quavering  bleat  of  sheep,  or  from  the  lake  the 
clatter  of  an  anchored  sloop's  capstan,  the  echoed 
voices  of  her  crew,  mingled  with  the  crazy  laughter 
of  a  loon. 

To  these  drowsy  sounds  of  awakening  day  Sam 
added  the  dip  and  drip  of  his  paddle,  as  with  head 
above  the  mist  that  wreathed  the  canoe  he  shaped 
his  easy  course  across  the  shallow  head  of  the  bay. 
Then  he  entered  the  stream's  gateway,  gorgeous 
with  the  autumnal  colors  of  the  water  maples. 
Looking  around  and  backward,  he  could  imagine 
himself  in  the  solitude  of  the  primeval  wilderness, 
for  there  was  no  visible  sign  of  man's  intrusion  on 
the  wooded  banks  at  either  side,  nor  on  the  silent 
lake,  nor  on  the  rugged  crags  of  Split  Rock  Moun 
tain,  and  these  were  the  bounds  of  vision. 

A  few  rods  up  stream  the  illusion  was  dispelled 
where  the  cleared  bank  opened  to  an  old  pasture. 
The  turf  was  cut  with  wheel  tracks  of  wagons  that 
had  brought  apples  to  the  Canadian  boat,  signs  of 
her  recent  presence  that  set  Sam  wondering  how 
it  fared  with  her  contraband  freight. 

Passing  the  next  bend,  he  was  between  wooded 
shores,  where  ferns  and  other  moisture-loving 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  225 

plants  crowded  each  other  in  rampant  growth. 
Ducks  frequently  arose  before  him,  singly  and  in 
flocks,  taking  wing  from  the  water  or  jutting  logs, 
out  of  range  before  he  discovered  them  or  could 
bring  his  unready  gun  to  bear  on  them.  He  saw 
that  shots  were  only  to  be  got  by  prowling  along 
on  foot,  and  ran  in  behind  a  little  island  that 
hugged  the  left  bank.  It  was  crowded  with  great 
trees  ;  most  conspicuous  among  them  was  a  tower 
ing  elm  and  an  immense  buttonwood,  whose  trunk 
shone  unearthly  white  amid  the  forest  shadows, 
like  the  ghost  of  a  giant,  and  all  were  embowered 
in  a  tangle  of  wild  grapevines. 

As  Sam  stepped  on  shore  he  caught  a  glimpse 
through  the  treetops  of  a  flock  of  ducks  whistling 
with  lowering  flight  toward  some  spot  below  him 
and  back  from  the  stream.  Thither  he  cautiously 
made  his  way  and  presently  saw  an  open  space 
among  the  trees,  toward  which  he  made  a  stealthy 
approach  under  cover  of  a  clump  of  alders.  When 
he  reached  this  he  discovered  a  narrow  lagoon  lying 
close  before  him.  It  was  some  twenty  rods  in 
length,  bordered  by  a  growth  of  wild  rice  and  cov- 
vered  with  duck  weed.  A  great  branchless  tree 
lay  lengthwise  of  it  at  the  nearer  end,  an  inviting 
roosting -place  for  wood  ducks,  a  score  of  which 
were  occupying  it  with  heads  uplifted  and  alert,  or 
comfortably  resting  on  their  mottled  breasts  or 
tucked  beneath  their  wings,  the  males  resplendent 


22G  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

with  bright  color,  the  females  shining  with  gilded 
bronze,  yet  all  strangely  inconspicuous  in  nature's 
nice  adjustment  to  their  environment,  never  failing 
to  blend  them  with  the  hues  of  her  changing  sea 
sons.  As  many  more  swam  idly  to  and  fro,  mesh 
ing  the  green  scum  of  duckweed  with  a  network  of 
watery  paths. 

If  Sam  was  aware  of  a  qualm  of  conscience  it 
came  too  late  to  withhold  him  from  the  unfair 
chance,  and  he  raked  the  log  with  such  deadly  aim 
that  more  than  half  its  happy  crew  tumbled  over 
board,  killed  outright  or,  in  the  last  extremity, 
splashed  aimlessly,  sorely  wounded,  struggling  in 
stinctively  toward  the  cover  of  the  weeds,  while  the 
affrighted  survivors  jostled  each  other  in  flurried 
flight,  knowing  not  what  to  make  of  the  catastrophe 
which  had  befallen  their  comrades,  but  wheeled 
and  pivoted  in  confused  wonderment  till  Sam 
came  forth  to  secure  his  victims,  when  they  took 
flight,  yet  returned  to  circle  and  hover  overhead, 
reluctant  to  leave  a  haunt  where  man  so  seldom 
intruded.  Another  shot  fired  to  secure  a  cripple 
served  to  convince  them  of  its  present  unsafety, 
and  when  Sam  bore  away  his  abundant  trophies  he 
left  the  pool  as  silent  and  deserted  as  it  is  to-day, 
when  it  is  known  to  every  gunner  of  this  region, 
and  even  the  poor  heron  and  bittern  avoid  its  pre 
cincts. 

After  depositing  the  ducks  in  the  canoe  and  fol- 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  227 

lowing  the  bank  a  little  farther,  Sam  came  oppo 
site  a  landing  where  a  scow  was  moored  and  a 
dugout  lay  with  its  nose  in  the  bank.  On  the 
level  sward  a  seine  was  spread  and  a  man  was 
kneeling  upon  it,  busily  engaged  in  mending  it. 
A  little  boy  with  hair  like  sun-burned  tow  stood 
watching  the  net-mender  and  making  frequent 
proffers  of  help  that  were  ungraciously  refused. 
The  man's  inquisitive  eyes  soon  made  him  aware 
of  Sam's  presence,  but  he  made  no  sign  of  his  dis 
covery  except  to  bawl  out  without  raising  his 
head :  — 

"  Haow  d'  du,  Capt'in  Tawmus,"  and  he  did  not 
change  his  position  till  he  had  finished  the  rent  he 
was  tying.  Then  he  threw  down  his  netting  needle 
and  rising  to  his  feet  came  to  the  bank  with  a 
peculiar  awkward  swaggering  gait  and  a  swing  of 
the  arms  that  continued  after  he  stood  still,  like 
the  slowly  ceasing  vibrations  of  a  pendulum,  mo 
tions  by  which  Sam  recognized  an  old  acquaint 
ance,  one  of  the  money  diggers  of  Garden  Island. 

The  child  followed  the  man  to  the  bank,  divid 
ing  his  gaping  attention  to  the  stranger  with  in 
spection  of  a  cedar  fish-pole  that  was  set  with  its 
sharpened  butt  in  the  bank  and  supported  by  a 
crotched  stick  at  the  water's  edge.  He  skipped 
from  one  occupation  to  the  other  with  an  awkward 
agility  that  seemed  to  have  been  acquired  in  dodg 
ing  gratuitous  cuffs.  He  drew  out  his  hook,  spat 


228  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

upon  it,  and  cast  it  with  such  faith  and  skill  of  a 
true  angler  that  Sam's  heart  warmed  to  him,  the 
more  for  his  forlornness. 

"  Why,  goodness  gracious-Peter-ah  !  "  the  man 
cried  in  dull  surprise,  "  I  took  ye  tu  be  Tawmus 
Baker,  an'  consequently  I  called  you  Captain  Taw 
mus.  Haow  's  your  folks-ah  ?  Crops  tol'able 
good  ?  I  do'  know 's  I  c'n  call  your  name.  What 
is  't  when  you  're  tu  hum,  anyway-ah  ?  " 

Sam  gave  him  the  desired  information  and  he 
continued :  — 

"  You  don't  say  !  A-huntin'  ducks,  be  ye  ? 
Wai,  you  won't  git  none.  The'  ha'  none-ah  up 
the  crick  ner  nowheres.  I  be'n  daown  the  crick 
myself  an'  all  I  got  was  this  'ere-ah."  He  took  a 
coot  out  from  the  log  canoe  and  held  it  aloft  for 
Sam's  inspection.  "  I  do'  know  what  sort  o'  critter 
he  is,  but  I  'm  a-goin'  tu  see  haow  he  '11  eat.  I 
fooled  that  'ere  duck,  sir.  He  sot  right  aout  in 
plain  sight,  but  I  went  a-sploshin'  along  in  the 
ma'sh  an'  a-lookin'  t'  other  way,  an'  made  him  think 
I  was  arter  su'thin'  else,  an'  I  got  right  up  tu  him. 
Fooled  him,  I  did,  by  gracious-Peter !  The'  hain't 
no  use  in  your  a-goin'  up  the  crick  ner  daown  the 
crick  nuther,"  the  man  declared,  giving  meantime 
no  more  attention  to  the  presence  of  his  child  than 
he  would  have  done  to  that  of  a  dog. 

"  I  'm  'bleeged  tu  you  for  tellin'  me,  but  I  guess 
I  '11  go  'long  up  a  piece.  I  kinder  want  tu  see 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  229 

what  the  crick  looks  like,  an'  I  don't  care  no  gre't 
abaout  ducks  anyway." 

"  "Wai,  go  and  be  darned,"  the  other  snarled, 
"  but  you  might  jest  as  well  leave  your  gun-ah. 
An'  you  '11  come  tu  a  gut  o'  the  ma'sh  'at  you  can't 
git  acrost-ah." 

In  spite  of  such  discouraging  advice  Sam  went 
on  with  his  ready  gun  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and 
his  thumb  and  forefinger  on  hammer  and  trigger, 
and  a  watchful  eye  on  the  stream  as  each  bend 
unfolded  a  new  reach.  He  crossed  the  formidable 
gut  at  one  stride,  and  at  the  next  turn  came  to  a 
long  westward  reach  down  which  the  rising  sun 
shone  full  in  his  face,  dazzling  him  with  level  beams 
that  sheeted  the  rippling  water  with  a  sun  glade  of 
wrinkled  gold,  and  glorified  the  mist  with  more  and 
brighter  colors  than  the  rainbow  bears,  all  minutely 
mirrored  in  the  innumerable  drops  that  beaded 
every  twig  and  bejeweled  every  leaf. 

Shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  he  searched  the 
resplendent  reach  to  its  farther  end,  and  there  dis 
covered  a  figure  skulking  swiftly  along  the  bank. 
The  form  and  motion,  though  revealed  but  in 
glimpses,  were  unmistakably  those  of  his  late  inter 
locutor,  whose  purpose  of  forestalling  Sam  was 
easily  guessed. 

"  Wai,  go  and  be  darned,"  said  Sam,  quoting 
the  man's  ungracious  godspeed  with  a  chuckle. 
"  I  guess  I  '11  lay  low  right  here  a  spell." 


230  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

A  group  of  lusty  basswoods,  sprung  from  the 
mouldering  parent  tree,  overhung  the  bank  with  a 
drooping  spread  of  branches,  and  Sam  crept  be 
neath  the  leafy  tent,  stretching  himself  on  the 
green  sward  to  wait  at  ease  for  what  might  come 
to  him.  The  monotonous  babble  of  a  shallow 
rapid  not  far  above  him,  and  the  softer  irregular 
swirl  of  deeper  water  around  a  half -sunken  log  near 
at  hand,  were  the  loudest  sounds  that  reached  his 
ears  for  a  while,  and  then  the  quiet  of  the  morning 
was  broken  by  an  echoing  roar,  and  before  the  echoes 
ceased  there  was  a  rush  of  wings,  recurring  again 
and  again  as  flock  after  flock  of  frightened  ducks 
came  hurrying  past,  unseen  but  in  fleeting  glimpses 
through  openings  in  the  branches.  At  last  there 
was  a  clattering  splash  of  an  alighting  flock,  and 
in  a  few  moments  he  discovered  them  swimming 
down  stream  toward  him.  When  they  came  near 
enough  he  fired  into  the  thick  of  them,  with  a 
result  that  would  have  sickened  with  envy  the  heart 
of  his  rival  had  he  beheld  it.  Six  ducks  lay  feebly 
beating  the  water  with  their  wings,  or  clawing  the 
air  with  upturned  paddles,  and  a  seventh  dived  and 
fluttered  down  stream  in  a  futile  attempt  to  escape, 
till  Sam  reloaded  his  gun  and  ended  its  struggles. 

Then  with  the  aid  of  a  pole  he  gathered  in  the 
game  and  again  retired  to  his  ambuscade.  Laying 
his  loaded  gun  within  easy  reach,  he  sat  down  to 
the  enjoyment  of  a  comfortable  smoke,  idly  watch- 


SUNGAIINEETOOK.  231 

ing  the  patch  of  water  gliding  past  him,  tangling 
in  its  eddies  the  quivering  reflections  of  the  other 
shore  with  floating  frost-painted  leaves,  some  water 
logged  with  far  voyaging,  others  newly  launched 
and  buoyant,  sailing  across  the  current  in  wafts  of 
the  breeze  till  stranded  on  the  bank  or  swept  on 
ward  in  the  stronger  current. 

Then  as  silently,  but  more  swiftly  and  suddenly, 
and  scarcely  less  gayly  colored  than  the  drifting 
leaves,  a  flock  of  wood  ducks  swam  into  the  narrow 
arena.  After  tacking  up  stream  a  moment  to  in 
spect  an  evidently  favorite  resort,  they  crept  in  on 
to  a  willowy  sand  spit  that  jutted  down  stream  and 
formed  a  tiny  cove  almost  beneath  Sam's  hiding- 
place.  Instinctively  he  stretched  his  hand  toward 
his  gun,  but  withheld  it  as  he  became  more  inter 
ested  in  watching  the  unsuspicious  birds  crowding 
and  jostling  each  other  for  the  best  places,  then 
one  after  another  standing  upright  and  shaking 
out  their  wings,  then  settling  down  and  preening 
their  plumage.  They  were  so  near  him  that  he 
could  see  the  flash  of  their  bright  eyes,  the  red  and 
olive  markings  on  the  drakes'  bills,  the  colors  of 
their  crests,  and  almost  count  the  arrow-shaped 
spots  on  their  breasts. 

"  By  the  gre't  horn  spoon !  "  he  whispered  to 
himself,  "  they  're  tew  harnsome  tu  spile,  an' 
they  're  so  dust  tu,  I  sh'll  knock  'em  all  tu  flinders. 
I  've  got  'nough  anyway,  seven  here  an'  'leven  in 


232  UNCLE  LISUA'S  OUTING. 

the  canew,  so  what 's  the  good  o'  murderin'  ?  But 
they  be  turrible  temptin'." 

Just  then  he  caught  sight  of  the  money  digger 
at  the  bend  above.  It  was  evident  that  he  saw  the 
ducks,  for  he  stopped  a  moment,  then  cautiously 
backed  away  and  began  a  wide  detour  to  reach  a 
point  opposite  them.  Sam  drew  a  stout  piece  of  a 
fallen  limb  to  him,  carefully  balanced  it  in  his 
hand,  and  then  watched  intently  the  crest  of  the 
other  bank.  After  a  considerable  time  the  crown 
of  an  unkempt  head  slowly  arose  from  behind  a 
log  of  driftwood  stranded  among  the  trees  in  the 
spring  freshet,  and  then  a  pair  of  eyes  slowly  scan 
ning  the  shore  till  they  fixed  011  the  object  of  their 
search,  then  sank  out  of  sight,  then  reappeared 
behind  the  rusty  barrel  of  a  slowly  leveled  musket. 

As  Sam  saw  a  brawny  hand  reaching  out  to 
cock  the  clumsy  hammer  after  assured  aim,  and 
wondered  that  the  audible  double  click  did  not 
alarm  the  ducks,  he  threw  the  club  at  them.  Be 
fore  the  hurtling  missile  splashed  in  the  margin  of 
the  sand  spit  the  ducks  sprang  into  the  air,  uttering 
quavering  wee-uks,  wee-uks  of  alarm. 

For  a  moment  the  musket  held  to  its  blank  aim, 
then  was  uplifted  as  the  disappointed  gunner 
slowly  arose  to  his  feet  and  came  out  upon  the 
bank,  craning  his  neck  up  stream  and  down  stream 
to  discover  the  cause  of  the  mischance,  till  at  last 
he  drawled  :  — 


SUNGAIINEETOOE.  233 

• 

"  What  in  all  smutteration  scairt  them  'ere 
ducks-ah?"  and  then  after  vainly  waiting  for  an 
answer,  "  Gol  dum  the  tarnal  luck." 

Shaking  with  smothered  laughter,  Sam  watched 
the  man  vent  his  disappointment  in  stamping  and 
fuming,  till  at  last  he  saw  him  depart,  bearing  a 
couple  of  ducks,  the  sole  trophies  of  his  stolen 
march. 

Sam  resumed  his  exploration  of  the  stream,  and 
after  coming  to  a  great  raft  of  driftwood  that 
bridged  it  he  discovered  another  little  lagoon  in 
the  edge  of  the  narrow  intervale,  so  close  to  the 
level  upland  that  it  was  shaded  by  its  hemlocks, 
and  ducks  and  partridges  were  near  neighbors,  each 
in  their  favorite  haunts. 

Then  he  came  to  banks  clad  with  willows,  and 
they  in  turn  with  wild  grapevines,  purple  under 
neath  with  clusters  of  frost-ripened  fruit.  Out  of 
one  of  these  wild  bowers  a  partridge  and  a  wood 
duck  took  sudden  flight  from  their  interrupted 
feast,  one  making  for  the  woods,  the  other  for  the 
water.  Sam  tumbled  the  duck  back  among  the 
willows  by  a  snap  shot  that  he  was  prouder  of  than 
of  those  which  had  given  much  greater  scores. 

The  next  bend  of  the  stream  disclosed  the  ma 
jestic  peak  of  Camel's  Hump  through  the  vista  of  a 
willowy  bank  and  a  pine-crowned  knoll,  and  when 
the  hunter  had  warmed  his  heart  with  a  long  look 
at  the  grandest  of  his  beloved  mountains  he  turned 


234  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

back,  for  the  landscape  was  beginning  to  show 
more  farmsteads  than  woods. 

The  way  back  over  a  path  once  traveled  seemed 
so  long  that  Sam  had  been  expecting  to  come  upon 
the  bowery  island  for  some  time  before  he  caught 
sight  of  its  ghostly  guardian  buttonwood  shining 
afar  off  through  the  shadows  of  the  water  maples. 
He  was  about  to  shorten  the  way  by  a  cut  across 
the  bend  when  he  heard  the  agonized  scream  of  a 
child.  It  apparently  came  from  the  landing,  and 
he  bent  his  steps  that  way  with  a  premonition  that 
help  was  needed. 

He  was  running  at  top  speed  when  he  came  to 
the  place  and  at  a  glance  saw  the  dugout  adrift 
slowly  rocking  on  the  agitated  water  with  a  cedar 
fish-pole  floating  near  it.  With  eyes  intent  on  the 
water  he  dropped  his  burdens  and  threw  off  hat 
and  coat  and  waistcoat. 

In  the  same  instant  a  scared  little  face  and  a 
pair  of  clutching  hands  broke  the  surface.  Mak 
ing  a  long  leap,  Sam  plunged  and  found  himself 
not  beyond  his  depth,  but  so  near  it  that  he  could 
swim  faster  than  he  could  wade,  and  a  few  strokes 
brought  him  within  reach  of  the  child.  He  caught 
him  by  the  hair  and  bore  him  to  the  shore. 

The  little  fellow  had  life  enough  in  him  to 
impede  his  rescuer  with  wild  clutches  and  to  cling 
desperately  at  the  grassy  margin  when  he  was 
brought  within  reach  of  it,  so  that  when  Sam  had 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  235 

dragged  his  own  waterlogged  self  up  the  steep, 
slippery  bank  he  had  less  trouble  in  pulling  the 
boy  up  it  than  in  bringing  him  to  it. 

The  poor  little  fellow  had  not  much  breath  to 
spare,  but  plenty  of  water,  to  rid  him  of  which 
Sam  laid  him  across  a  log  and  gently  rolled  him 
from  side  to  side,  his  patient  moaning  and  crying 
feebly  between  fits  of  strangling. 

When  he  had  recovered  speech  and  natural 
breathing  and  a  disposition  to  cry  continually,  Sam 
took  him  up  tenderly  in  his  arms  and  carried  him 
toward  the  house,  which  stood  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away  behind  a  straggling  orchard,  whose  unpruned 
lichened  trees  were  as  old,  forlorn,  and  neglected  as 
the  weather-beaten  house  and  ruinous  barn. 

"  Haow  old  be  ye  ?  "  Sam  began,  catechizing  his 
charge. 

"  Seben,  goin'  on  eight." 

"  Haow  come  ye  in  the  crik  ?  " 

"  Fishin',"  was  the  laconic  response^  and  then 
with  sudden  interest  the  child  added,  "  Say-ah,  'd 
ye  git  my  fish-pole  ?  " 

"  No,  I  had  all  I  wanted  tu  git  you." 

"  Wai,  you  'd  ortu  git  it.  The'  's  an  ol'  roncher 
on  it-ah.  Pulled  me  right  in.  They  '11  lick  me 
for  losin'  on 't,  ah,"  the  boy  whimpered. 

"  No,  they  won't,  nuther.  Don't  you  worry, 
they'll  be  glad  'nough  tu  git  you.  Naow,  you 
look  a-here.  You  're  tew  leetle  a  feller  tu  go 


236  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

fisliin'  alone.  Your  father  'd  ortu  known  better  'n 
tu  left  ye.  The'  won't  allers  be  somebody  raoun' 
tu  pull  you  out.  Don't  ye  go  again.  Naow,  don't 
fergit."  Sam  gave  him  a  gentle  shake  to  empha 
size  his  injunction,  and  the  boy  nodded  assent. 
Then  discovering  they  were  drawing  near  the  house 
he  struggled  to  get  down. 

"  You  lemme  go,"  he  whimpered,  "  I  wanter  go 
an'  dry  me.  Marm  '11  lick  me  for  gittin'  wet." 

"  By  the  gre't  horn  spoon  !  if  she  does  I  '11 
draowned  the  hull  fam'ly.  Haow  many  on  'em  is 
the'  ?  Wai,  nev'  mind,  you  keep  quiet,"  Sam 
added,  guessing  the  computation  was  beyond  so 
young  a  head,  when  he  saw  a  full  half-dozen  tow- 
thatched  heads  swarming  out  of  the  door  to  stare 
at  him  a  moment  and  then  vanish  as  suddenly  as 
a  litter  of  frightened  woodchucks. 

A  gaunt,  unkempt  woman  appeared,  shading  her 
inquiring  eyes  and  blank,  wondering  face  with  both 
hands  till  she  recognized  the  visitor's  dripping  bur 
den.  Then  her  face  grew  white  with  terror  and 
she  wailed  out  with  her  hands  piteously  out 
stretched  :  — 

"  Oh,  Joby  's  draounded !     Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear  !  " 

"  No,  he  hain't  draounded,  marm,"  Sam  declared 
in  a  cheery  voice,  "  but  he  's  almightedly  soaked  an' 
you  'd  better  dry  him  off  an'  put  him  tu  bed." 

Her  face  became  a  little  less  woeful,  yet  she 
would  not  be  assured,  but  cried  out :  — 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  237 

"  Oh,  Joby,  hain't  you  draownded?" 

"  No,  marm,  I  hain't,"  the  boy  answered  feebly. 

"  Yis,  you  be  tew  draounded,"  she  protested. 

The  children  gathered  behind  her  in  an  awed 
semicircle  that  broke  to  let  Sam  and  their  mother 
pass  in,  and  closed  in  again  in  their  rear,  while  he 
kicked  a  rocking-chair  to  a  place  by  the  stove, 
motioned  her  by  a  nod  to  be  seated  in  it,  and  put 
the  child  in  her  lap. 

"  You  take  off  his  wet  clo's  an'  put  him  tu  bed," 
he  commanded,  "  an'  I  '11  roust  up  the  fire,"  and 
while  she  began  to  obey  him  he  fed  the  cracked 
old  rotary  stove  with  an  armful  of  wood. 

"  Sis,  you  run  aout  an'  git  a  han'ful  o'  catnip  an' 
steep  it  up  in  a  tin  o'  b'ilin'  water,"  he  said  to  a 
girl  of  twelve  who  stood  staring  at  him  in  abashed 
amazement,  then  addressing  the  mother,  who  was 
struggling  with  the  clinging  ragged  garments : 
"  You  give  him  a  good  lot  on  't,  hot  as  he  c'n  take 
it." 

After  seeing  the  catnip  tea  a-brewing,  Sam  went 
to  the  barn  and  took  off  and  wrung  out  his  clothes, 
affording  an  interesting  spectacle  to  three  of  the 
boys  who  followed  and  watched  him  through  the 
half-open  door  till  he  dispersed  them  by  throwing 
one  of  his  boots  at  them. 

When  he  returned  to  the  house,  shivering,  but 
no  longer  dribbling  a  trail  by  which  he  could  be 
traced,  he  found  his  late  audience  of  the  barn 


238  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

giggling  in  safe  retreat  behind  the  stove,  the  pa 
tient  in  bed,  and  his  mother  administering  doses  of 
hot  catnip  tea,  with  the  comforting  assurance  that 
"  he  'd  ketch  it  when  his  pa  got  hum." 

"  I  don't  care,"  poor  Joby  whimpered  under  the 
blankets  ;  "  I  wan't  a  mite  tu  blame.  I  got  holt 
of  a  ol'  roncher  an'  he  yanked  me  in,  so  naow.  I 
wish  I  'd  got  him.  He  was  a  ol'  roncher."  And 
he  began  to  cry  piteously  over  the  loss  of  the  fish 
and  the  impending  chastisement. 

"  There,  there,  bub,  don't  ye  take  on,"  said  Sam, 
shivering  over  the  stove.  "  If  your  fish  hain't  le' 
go  when  I  git  back  there,  I  '11  haul  him  aout  and 
lay  him  on  the  bank  for  ye,  an'  your  pa  won't  tech 
ye,  I  know.  It 's  bad  'nough  tu  git  draounded 
'thaout  bein'  licked  for  it.  Boo !  it 's  consid'able 
cool  bathin'  this  time  o'  year  !  " 

"  Why,  you  be  cold,  hain't  ye  ?  "  the  woman 
said.  "  I  was  so  took  up  wi'  Joby  I  never 
thought.  Won't  ye  hev  ye  some  sperits  ?  We 
hain't  a  drop  in  the  haouse,  but  won't  ye  hev  some  ? 
The'  's  some  camfire ;  that  'ould  kinder  warm  ye. 
It 's  warmin'." 

Sam  declined  the  spirits  that  were  not  and  the 
camphor  that  was. 

"  You  need  n't  think  I  hain't  obleeged  if  I  hain't 
said  so,"  the  woman  said,  looking  more  gratitude 
than  her  words  expressed,  as  she  followed  him  to 
the  door.  "  If  his  brother  was  here  I  'd  tell  your 


SUNGAHNEETOOK.  239 

fortin'  an'  not  charge  ye  nothin'.  His  brother 
gives  me  the  influence.  I  hev  secont  sight." 

"  You  'd  ort  tu  hev  looked  fur  enough  ahead  tu 
kep'  your  boy  from  tumblin'  int'  the  crik,"  Sam 
said  as  he  left  her,  and  she  called  after  him :  — 

"  Wai,  I  foreseen  he  was  a-goin'  tu  git  draounded, 
an'  I  've  said  so  all  summer." 

Sam  warmed  himself  with  a  run  to  the  landing, 
where  he  had  the  luck  to  find  the  dugout  stranded 
on  that  side.  He  picked  up  the  boy's  pole  with  a 
big  pickerel  fast  to  the  line,  and  leaving  it  conspic 
uously  displayed  on  the  bank,  crossed  the  stream. 
When  he  had  rescued  the  child  he  noticed  the  scow 
and  seine  were  gone,  and  concluded  that  the  owner 
was  seeking  for  better  luck  in  fishing  than  in  duck 
hunting.  He  picked  up  his  things,  and  was  soon 
afloat  in  his  own  canoe. 

As  silently  as  the  outsped  current  the  canoe 
glided  down  stream,  and  Sam  with  eyes  constantly 
alert  scanned  banks  and  water  without  discovering 
anything  worthy  of  note  till,  upon  rounding  a  bend, 
he  found  himself  close  beside  a  man  kneeling  by  a 
hollow  log  on  the  verge  of  the  bank.  It  was  the 
negro  Jim,  who,  as  the  bow  of  the  canoe  slid  noise 
lessly  into  his  field  of  vision,  turned  a  startled  face 
toward  Sam. 

"  Good  Lord,  Mr.  Lovel,  haow  you  did  scare 
me !  "  he  exclaimed  with  emphatic  jerks  of  his 
head.  "  You  'pear  tu  be  allus  a-scarin'  of  me ! 


240  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

My  Lord,  haow  you  did  scare  me  that  night." 
He  laughed  as  if  at  the  recollection  of  an  excellent 
joke,  then  became  suddenly  serious.  "  But  't  wan't 
nothin'  to  what  come  arter !  No,  sir !  "  He 
dropped  his  voice  to  a  lower  but  no  less  emphatic 
tone  and  came  nearer  Sam,  who  held  the  canoe  by 
an  overhanging  bough.  "  'Baout  half  an  liaour 
arter  I  come  back  four  fellers  come  a-r'arin  hit'  the 
ol'  shanty,  lookin'  arter  Bob.  Yes,  sir  !  '  Where 's 
that  nigger  you  be'n  hidiii'  ?  Where  's  that  nigger  ? ' 
'  No  niggers  here  but  what  belongs  here,"  says  I ; 
'  me  an'  Nancy  an'  the  young  un,  an'  them 's  as 
many  as  I  can  'tend  tu.'  But  no,  I  was  all  sorts 
of  a  lyin'  nigger,  an'  they  knowed  I  'd  got  him  hid, 
an'  through  the  haouse  they  went,  up  stairs  an' 
daown,  an'  under  the  bed  an'  hit'  the  butt'ry  ;  but 
nary  Bob  nowheres,  an'  mighty  good  for  some  o' 
their  healths  'at  the'  wan't  iiaow,  I  tell  you.  One 
spell  they  'd  cuss  an'  'nuther  spell  they  'd  coax,  but 
ary  way  they  could  n't  make  me  know  nothin',  an' 
bimeby  they  cleared  aout,  an'  you  'd  better  b'lieve 
I  wan't  sorry;  no,  sir,  not  one  mite.  An'  I  tell 
you  what,  Mr.  Lovel,  I  don't  want  no  more  o'  my 
Southern  relations  tu  come  a-visitin'  on  me  ;  no  sir ! 
They  're  tew  interestin'  tu  white  folks  !  Nancy  an' 
the  young  un  is  all  the  darkies  I  want  tu  bother 
my  brains  with." 

"  You    hain't  heared  nothin'  but  what   he  got 
away  all  right  ?  "  Sam  asked. 


SUNGAHNEETOOK  241 

"  Mr.  Bartlett  thinks  he  did,  sure,  an'  he  says 
that  nigger  hunter  's  gin  it  up  an'  cleared  aout. 
I  guess  Bob  's  shakin'  his  heels  in  Canerdy  by  this 
time,  don't  you,  Mr.  Lovel  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Sam,  and  then  with  profes 
sional  interest  in  the  other's  evident  employment, 
"  Hain't  it  middlin'  airly  for  trappin'  mink  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  they  '11  du  me  more  good  naow  'n  they 
will  if  somebody  else  gits  'em  by  'm  by,"  Jim 
said,  with  repeated  and  decided  jerks  of  the  head. 

"  Wai,  they  hain't  my  mink,"  said  Sam,  loosing 
his  hold  of  the  branch  and  letting  the  canoe  drift 
away.  "  Ta'  care  of  your  relations  when  they 
happen  along." 

"  Yes,  sir,  Mr.  Lovel,  I  will,  sartain,  but  I  don't 
want  tu  see  none  of  'em,  no,  sir,"  and  chuckling 
and  wagging  his  head  he  resumed  the  setting  of 
the  trap  as  Sam  drove  the  canoe  on  its  course. 

A  smart  breeze  ruffled  the  green  water  of  the 
bay  with  waves  that  flashed  like  fire  in  the  broad 
glade  of  the  low  sun  and  flecked  the  far  blue  of 
the  lake  with  leaping  whitecaps  as  the  canoe  slid 
over  the  long  undulations  of  the  shallows  toward 
her  port.  , 

A  flock  of  golden  eyes  took  flight  before  her, 
their  wing-beats  ringing  like  the  quick  clangor  of 
tiny  bells,  and  flocks  of  teal  and  dusky  ducks  whis 
tled  past,  coming  in  early  on  the  favoring  breeze 
from  their  day's  outing  on  the  lake.  One  by  one 


242  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

a  company  of  herons  forsook  the  shallows  beneath 
the  cliffs  and  sagged  on  slow  vans  toward  the 
woods  of  Little  Otter,  and  high  above  all  an  eagle 
made  stately  progress  through  his  aerial  realm. 
The  wash  of  waves  was  left  behind  when  the  canoe 
entered  the  creek,  and  presently  it  slipped  in  at 
the  landing,  where  Sam  found  his  friends  already 
returned  and  awaiting  his  coming. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

AN    INLAND    EXPLORATION. 

OF  the  remaining  inmates  of  the  tent  Uncle 
Lisha  was  the  first  to  arise,  for  after  threescore 
years  of  partial  disproof  he  was  still  a  believer  in 
the  maxim  that  inculcates  the  benefits  of  early 
rising.  He  lighted  the  fire  and  made  a  trip  to  the 
waterside,  returning  therefrom  in  the  glow  of  recent 
ablution  and  the  exertion  of  lugging  a  pail  of 
water  up  the  steep  path  before  his  companions 
came  stumbling  forth,  yawning  and  blinking  in  the 
secondary  stage  of  reviving  consciousness. 

"  Bah  gosh  !  One'  Lasha,  Ah  guess  you  '11  was 
try  for  ketch  nudder  waum  dis  morny,  ant  it, 
hein  ?  "  Antoine  asked,  rubbing  his  eyes  with  one 
hand  and  searching  his  pockets  for  his  pipe  with 
the  other. 

"  If  you  an'  the  worm  ever  meets,  he  '11  haftu 
du  the  s'archin'.  Come,  Ann  Twine,  le'  's  git  us 
suthin'  t'  eat  time  'nough  tu  call  it  breakfus  stid 
o'  dinner.  You  an'  Jozeff  go  an'  wash  ye  whilst  I 
git  the  taters  on.  What  is  't  this  mornin',  duck  or 
fish?" 


244  UNCLE  LISHA  S  OUTING. 

"  Feesh  was  de  quickes',  'cause  he  all  ready  for 
jomp  011  de  pan." 

"  An'  best,  seem 's  'ough,  arter  duck  so  con- 
tin'al  ?  "  said  Joseph.  "  I  'm  kinder  thinkin'  ducks 
would  n't  be  much  'caount  if  't  wan't  for  the  feath 
ers,  that  is,  for  a  stiddy  thing.  But  I  du  lufter 
shoot  'em,  though." 

"  I  should  like  tu  know  haow  you  know  youdu," 
said  Uncle  Lisha,  counting  out  the  potatoes  from 
the  sack.  "  Three  for  Ann  Twine  —  come,  hyper, 
an'  when  you  git  back  I  '11  tell  ye  what  we  '11  du 
tu-day  —  tew  for  Jozeff,  an'  one  for  me." 

In  due  time  the  fish  was  fried,  the  potatoes 
boiled,  the  tea  brewed,  and  the  little  company 
gathered  around  the  stone  table. 

"  What  I  was  a-cal'latin'  was,"  Uncle  Lisha  be 
gan,  and  then  deferred  speech  while  he  cooled  the 
tea  in  his  tin  cup  with  a  gusty  blast  accompanied 
by  a  vigorous  shake,  "  'at  we  'd  take  a  rantomscoot 
over  west  tu  where  we  was  stationed  time  o'  the 
war.  I  kinder  want  tu  see  the  place  ag'in,  an'  it 
'ould  be  interestin'  tu  you  an'  Ann  Twine,  an'  we 
c'n  take  aour  guns  along  an'  mebby  shoot  suthin' 
'nother,  an'  a  bag,  an'  pick  up  some  wa'nuts, 
which  they  'd  be  a  proper  good  treat  tu  the  folks 
up  hum.  What  d'  ye  say  to  it  —  'mongst  ye  ?  " 

"  Ah  '11  ant  want  for  go  feeshin's,  an'  Ah  '11 
ant  want  for  go  hunt  on  de  crik,  an'  Ah  '11  willin' 
for  go  loafer  'long  to  you,  One'  Lasha." 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  245 

"  Most  anything  '11  suit  me,"  s.aid  Joseph,  "  if  it 
hain't  goin'  in  a  boat,  which  it  don't  seem  as  'ough 
I  would  du  under  no  circumstances  exceptin'  in  the 
case  of  a  reg'lar  ol'  Noer  flood,  an'  then  I  b'lieve 
I  'd  climb  the  last  tree  'fore  I  'd  trust  myself  tu 
any  tarnal  boat,  he  or  she,  smaller  'n  the  ark  or  a 
steamboat,  which  I  do'  know  nothin'  'baout,  or 
leastways  a  canawl  boat,  'at  I  hev  ventured  ontu." 

So,  being  of  one  mind,  when  breakfast  was  eaten 
and  the  act  by  courtesy  called  dishwashing  had 
been  performed,  they  set  forth  westward  across  the 
fields  and  by  the  woodside,  where  ferns  and  asters 
invaded  the  grass  land,  and  the  timothy  and  clover 
crept  into  the  shadow  of  the  woods.  As,  advancing 
abreast,  they  climbed  a  knoll  and  their  heads  arose 
above  its  crest,  Antoine's  quick  eye  caught  sight 
of  a  gray  squirrel  running  from  the  woods  to  an 
outlying  hickory. 

"  S-s-h  ! "  Antoine  whispered,  "  go  softie  till  he 
gat  on  de  tree,  den  we  supprise  him  an'  kill  it." 

These  tactics  were  successfully  carried  out  as  far 
as  the  surprise,  but  the  beleaguered  squirrel  hid  so 
closely  among  the  topmost  leaver,  that  the  besiegers 
were  imable  to  discover  it.  A  random  shot  was 
fired  into  the  thickest  bunch  of  leaves,  and  the 
frightened  squirrel  sprang  to  the  ground.  Recov 
ering  in  an  instant  from  the  shock  of  the  desperate 
leap,  it  scudded  away  to  the  cover  of  the  woods  at 
a  rate  that  defied  the  pottering  aim  of  two  guns, 


246  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

and  their  futile  charges  raked  the  turf  far  in  its 
rear.  Of  course  the  event  reminded  Antoine  of 
one  man  in  Canada  whose  adventure  he  proceeded 
to  relate,  while  the  others,  crawling  on  their  hands 
and  knees,  gathered  the  fallen  nuts. 

"  You  see,  seh,  boy,  he  '11  was  huntin'  jus'  sem 
lak  we  was,  honly  he  was  hunt  for  bear  an'  he  was 
'lone,  jus'  one  poor  leetly  Frenchmans  'stid  of  two 
fat  hoi'  Yankee  an'  one  big  hugly  Frenchmans. 
Wai,  seh,  he  foller  bear  tracks  where  it  go  in 
hole,  an'  he  '11  was  si'  do'n  for  wait  of  it  come  off 
de  hole  so  he  can  shot  it.  Wen  he  '11  set  t'ree, 
prob'ly  two  naour,  he  beegin  for  gat  dry,  an'  he 
stan'  up  hees  gaun  gin  tree  an'  go  on  de  brook  for 
drink,  an',  seh,  de  bear  happen  for  gat  dry  too,  an' 
it  come  off  de  hole  an'  gat  raght  'tween  de  mans 
an'  de  gaun,  bah  gosh !  An'  dat  mans  he  '11  had 
for  run  home  an'  lef  hees  gaun.  What  you  t'ink 
for  dat,  hein  ?  But  dat  ant  so  funny  lak  'nudder 
man  Canada.  He  was  gat  bag  jus'  sem  we  was, 
honly  grea'  deal  more  bigger,  an' ' 

"  Oh,  shet  your  head,  Ann  Twine.  You  'd  a 
dumb  sight  better  be  a-pickin'  up  wa'nuts  'an  tu 
stan'  there  a-makin'  up  lies." 

"  Dat  jus'  what  Ah  '11  was  goin'  for  do,  but  you 
an'  Zhozeff  gat  it  all  pick  up.  Dat  was  too  bad ! 
Hoorah,  le  's  go  scare  some  more  squirly." 

Going  forward,  they  soon  came  to  the  head  of 
the  bay,  which  was  memorable  as  the  scene  of 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  247 

Uncle  Lisha's  and  Joseph's  first  duck  shooting. 
To-day  its  only  visible  occupant  was  a  solitary  heron 
so  slowly  wading  the  glassy  shallows  that  he 
scarcely  broke  the  perfect  contour  of  his  mirrored 
semblance.  He  was  in  long  range  of  a  clump  of 
cedars,  under  cover  of  which  Antoine  made  a 
stealthy  approach,  and  was  just  on  the  point  of 
firing  when  he  was  discovered  by  the  wary  heron, 
who  launched  himself  upon  the  air  in  a  long  up 
ward  slant  of  labored  flight.  Antoine  followed 
him  with  uncertain  aim,  and  only  pulled  trigger 
when  the  bird  was  hopelessly  out  of  range  and  a 
hundred  feet  above  the  lake.  But  to  the  wonder 
of  the  three  beholders,  as  the  shot  whistled  past 
the  heron  he  turned  a  half  somersault,  and  with 
beak  back  drawn  for  a  stroke  came  tumbling  and 
sprawling  downward  in  apparent  helplessness. 
Antoine  raised  a  shout  of  triumph,  Joseph  began 
to  congratulate  himself  on  a  handsome  addition  to 
his  stock  of  feathers,  and  Uncle  Lisha  had  already 
upon  his  lips  a  rebuke  for  the  wanton  destruction 
of  a  harmless  and  worthless  bird,  when  to  his 
delight,  the  others'  disgust,  and  the  amazement  of 
all,  the  heron  was  seen  to  recover  himself  after  a 
tumble  of  twenty  feet  and  resume  his  even  flight. 
The  sudden  terror  that  seized  him,  when  to  his 
ears  the  whistle  of  the  hurtling  shot  was  the  rush 
of  an  eagle's  pinions,  was  relieved  when  he  saw  no 
foe  above  him  to  repel,  and  with  regular  wing-beats 


248  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

he  climbed  the  long  incline  of  retreat,  till  indrawn 
neck,  broad  vans,  and  trailing  legs  were  blurred  in 
a  wavering  speck  of  gray  that  vanished  behind  a 
cedar-crowned  headland. 

"  Bah  gosh,"  Aiitoine  ejaculated,  recovering 
speech  and  suspended  respiration,  "  what  yo'  s'pose 
mek  dat  feller  git  over  be  keel  so  quick,  heiii?  " 

'"  I  'm  dumb  glad  on  't,  Ann  Twine.  What  d' 
ye  w'ntu  pester  that  poor  ol'  lunsome  crane  for  ? 
He  ain't  wutli  the  paowder  you  burnt,  an'  don't 
trouble  nob'dy." 

"  Seem  's  'ough  he  kerried  off  a  mess  o'  feathers 
'at  I  'd  ortu  had,"  Joseph  sighed. 

"  Ah  '11  bet  you  head  he 's  gone  off  for  die." 

"  Of  ol'  age,  I  hope,"  said  Uncle  Lisha. 

Going  a  little  farther,  they  came  to  a  small  rock- 
walled  cove,  where  a  rude  fireplace  and  an  inverted 
washtub  gave  evidence  of  a  family  washing  place. 
Here  they  sat  down  to  enjoy  a  restful  smoke. 
They  were  aroused  from  their  reverie  by  shrill  out 
cries  of  distress  arising  from  a  little  distance,  and 
hastening  forward  through  the  fringe  of  woods  to 
learn  the  cause,  they  discovered  a  girl  of  ten  or 
eleven  years  with  a  younger  child  on  a  great  pine 
stump  in  the  middle  of  the  field,  where  they  were 
besieged  by  a  gaunt  old  ram,  who,  uttering  hoarse 
bleats,  made  frequent  circuits  of  the  tower  of  ref 
uge,  which  now  and  then  he  butted  with  blows 
that  sounded  like  the  strokes  of  a  beetle. 


AN  INLAND  EXPLOEATION.  249 

Uncle  Lisha  and  his  party  advanced  to  the 
rescue  with  loud  shouts,  which  at  once  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  ram,  but  did  not  daunt  him  in 
the  least,  for  no  sooner  did  he  find  himself  threat 
ened  by  an  attack  in  the  rear  than  he  charged 
upon  his  assailants  so  fiercely  that  Joseph  and  An- 
toine  fled  with  all  speed  to  the  shelter  of  the  woods, 
whither  the  ram  followed  in  hot  pursuit.  Antoine 
climbed  nimbly  up  a  low-branched  tree,  while  Jo 
seph  sought  refuge  in  a  thicket  of  cedars,  wherein 
he  was  assisted,  as  he  scrambled  on  all  fours,  by 
a  blow  that  drove  him  into  the  evergreen  curtain 
quite  out  of  sight  of  his  pursuer. 

Having  routed  the  main  body,  the  doughty 
champion  turned  and  charged  upon  Uncle  Lisha, 
who,  as  unable  as  he  was  indisposed  to  run  from 
an  enemy,  still  held  forward  to  the  rescue  of  the 
children.  He  had  almost  reached  them  when  the 
elder  child  cried  out  in  great  alarm,  — 

"  Oh,  look  out.  Look  out,  mister,  he  '11  hit  ye. 
Oh,  dear." 

As  Uncle  Lisha  faced  about,  his  antagonist  was 
close  upon  him,  coming  at  full  speed  with  lowered 
head  and  assured  aim,  but  the  old  man  stepped 
aside  and  dexterously  caught  the  ram  by  one  horn 
as  he  passed.  The  sheep  made  vicious  sidewise 
thrusts  and  struggled  desperately  for  liberty,  and 
though  his  captor  was  made  to  take  some  unsually 
lively  steps  his  hold  could  not  be  loosened. 


250  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  Say,  sissy,"  Uncle  Lisha  called  in  broken 
words  and  sentences,  "  you  git  daown  —  consarn 
yer  ol'  picter  —  an'  fetch  me  a  club  er  a  —  Oh, 
you  won't  git  away  erless  your  horn  comes  off  - 
stun  an'  I  '11  give  him  all  the  hommerin'  he  wants. 
You  das  n't  ?  Wai,  then,  you  an'  bubby  git  daown 
an'  clipper  fer  the  fence.  I  won'  let  the  ol'  tor 
ment  git  away.  Clipper,  naow.  Ann  Twine ! 
Jozeff  !  Come  'ere  an'  fetch  me  a  club  er  a  stun. 
Oh,  you  plaguey  fraid-cats.  I  wish 't  I  c'ld  sick 
him  ontu  ye.  I  'd  let  him  drive  ye  int'  the  lake, 
I  swan  I  would." 

"  Seems 's  'ough  you  might  kinder  tie  his  laigs, 
Uncle  Lisher,"  Joseph  suggested,  venturing  to 
peep  from  his  hiding-place. 

"  Tie  yer  granny !  I  don't  kerry  ropes  raound 
wi'  me." 

"  Put  it  on  de  bag,  One'  Lisha,  an'  tie  de  bag," 
Antoine  shouted. 

"  Fetch  me  the  bag  and  I  swan  I  will,"  Uncle 
Lisha  responded. 

"  It  bes'  was  you  hoi'  him  hees  hin'  leg  of  it  an' 
Ah  '11  shot  it,  bah  gosh !  "  Antoine  now  proposed. 

"  Honh  !  You  want  tu  pay  for  him  ?  Well,  I 
hain't  a  buyin'  mutton.  Oh,  you  dumb  slinks  ! 
You  hain't  spunk  'nough  tu  break  up  a  settin'  hen  ! 
Come  along  here,  you  tarnal  ol'  sarpent,"  and  de 
spairing  of  receiving  aid,  Uncle  Lisha  led  his  cap 
tive  about  the  field  while  he  searched  for  a  suitable 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  251 

weapon.  This  he  found  at  last  in  the  form  of 
a  good-sized  stone,  wherewith  he  belabored  the 
ram's  nose  till  the  fight  was  quite  taken  out  of 
him  and  his  only  desire  was  to  escape.  When 
this  became  evident  to  Uncle  Lisha  he  released  his 
prisoner,  who  made  a  speedy  retreat  for  a  short 
distance  and  then  partly  turned  about  as  if  with 
some  intention  of  renewing  hostilities.  The  old 
man  hurled  the  stone  with  such  true  aim  that  it 
struck  him  full  on  the  ribs,  knocking  the  breath 
out  of  him  with  the  last  vestige  of  valor,  and  he 
retreated  on  the  ends  of  his  toes,  with  his  back 
humped  and  his  head  violently  shaken,  and  his 
stumpy  tail  wiggling  till  it  imparted  a  tremor  to 
his  whole  body. 

"There,  dumb  yer  ol'  Meriner  picter,  hev  ye 
got  'nough  on  't  ?  "  Uncle  Lisha  shouted,  while  his 
victory  was  cheered  with  cries  of  delight  by  the 
children,  who  had  watched  the  progress  of  the  bat 
tle  through  the  rails  of  the  fence,  and  by  Joseph 
and  Antoine  with  more  discreet  celebration,  less 
likely  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  ram. 

"  I  guess  you  might  ventur'  aout  here  naow," 
Uncle  Lisha  called  as  the  two  men  edged  along  the 
border  of  the  woods,  and  he  picked  up  the  gun 
which  he  had  dropped  at  the  beginning  of  the  en 
counter.  "  Oh,  I  'm  'shamed  on  ye,"  he  continued 
when  with  frequent  backward  glances  they  rejoined 
him  and  led  the  way  toward  the  fence.  "  Tew 


252  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

gre't  growed-up  men  afeared  of  a  poor,  insi'nifi- 
cant  sheep." 

"  Wai,  sell,  One'  Lasha,  Ah  '11  goin'  tol'  you, 
Ah  '11  ant  was  be  'fraid  of  it,  but  Ah  '11  know  'f 
Ah  '11  was  gat  mad,  Ah  '11  keel  it,  me,  an'  Ah  '11 
ant  want  it  for  pay  it.  Ah  '11  glad  Ah  '11  ant  gat 
mad.  But  Ah  '11  mos'  was  w'en,  Ah  '11  up  dat  tree." 

"  Wai,  I  never  had  no  knack  o'  gittin'  along  wi' 
sheep,  never  seemed  's  'ough  I  hed,"  said  Joseph. 
"  I  could  n't  never  drive  'em  ner  call  'em.  Don't 
you  cal'late  they  be  turrible  contr'y  critters,  Uncle 
Lasher  ?  " 

The  victorious  champion  vouchsafed  no  answer 
but  a  contemptuous  snort,  and  now  that  the  fence 
was  crossed  took  the  lead  in  the  direction  of  a  ram 
bling  old  gray  farmhouse  whither  the  children  had 
gone. 

"  That  'ere  's  the  haouse  where  aour  officers  got 
the'  put-up-punce,"  he  said,  presently  recovering 
his  usual  tranquillity  of  temper.  "  We  common 
folks  slep'  in  the  buildin's  when  we  wan't  aout  on 
the  P'int.  We  '11  g'  aout  there  w'en  I  git  me  a 
drink,  for  it 's  turrible  sightly.  The'  use'  tu  be  a 
good  well  o'  water  here  twenty-five  year  ago,  an'  if 
it 's  here  yit  I  want  some  on  't,  for  I  got  consid'- 
able  he't  up  tusslin'  wi'  that  ol'  rip." 

As  they  approached  the  house  a  comely  young 
matron  came  to  the  open  kitchen  door,  welcoming 
them  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  a  cheery  voice, 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  253 

while  her  keen  eyes  made  a  quick  but  comprehen 
sive  survey  of  the  group. 

"  Good-mornin',  gentlemen.  You  're  the  ones 
'at  drove  that  cross  ol'  buck  away  from  the  chil 
dren  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Antoine,  coining  to  the 
front  with  his  politest  manners  ;  "  we  was  be  de 
zhontemans." 

But  Joseph  had  not  the  effrontery  to  claim 
much  of  the  glory  for  himself  and  Antoine,  and 
said,  jerking  his  thumb  toward  Uncle  Lisha,  "  He 
done  most  on 't,  ma'am.  Ye  see,  he  kind  o'  seemed 
tu  hev  the  fust  chance,  an'  so  he  took  it." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  the  young  woman  said,  grow 
ing  red  in  the  face  with  suppressed  laughter ; 
"  Janey  here  told  me  all  about  it,"  and  the  little 
girl  retired  from  view  behind  her  mother,  who  con 
tinued  addressing  Uncle  Lisha.  "I'm  dreffly 
obleeged  tu  you,  sir.  But  set  your  guns  in  the 
shed  an'  come  right  in,  all  of  you,  an'  have  a  fried 
cake  an'  some  cider." 

"  Thank  you,  marm,  I  guess  we  won't  go  in," 
said  Uncle  Lisha ;  "  but  I  would  n't  go  ag'in  a  nut 
cake,  for  I  hain't  seen  one  for  a  week,  and  I  be 
turrible  dry,  which  fetched  me  here ;  but  you 
need  n't  put  yourself  aout  tu  git  cider,  water 's 
good  'nough  for  us." 

"  'T  ain't  no  trouble,"  and  the  woman  bustled  in, 
closely  followed  by  the  children,  and  returned  with 


254  UNCLE  LISHAS  OUTING. 

a  heaped  pan  of  doughnuts,  fresh  and  hot  from  the 
kettle.  "Naow  jest  help  yourselves  whilst  I  go 
an'  draw  some  cider." 

"  Don't  ye,"  Uncle  Lisha  expostulated,  "water  's 
plenty  good  enough  for  us." 

But  the  hospitality  of  their  hostess  was  not  to  be 
restrained,  and  she  presently  brought  a  brimming 
pitcher  of  cider,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  two  of 
the  party. 

"  I  'm  af eared  these  fried  cakes  lies  soaked  fat," 
she  said,  breaking  one  and  examining  it  critically 
when  her  guests  were  served.  "They  be  fat- 
soaked,"  she  declared  in  a  grieved  tone,  "  but 
mebby  they  '11  go  better  'n  none,  if  you  hain't  had 
none  lately." 

"  Queen  Victory  could  n't  make  no  better," 
Uncle  Lisha  declared,  "  nor  yit  the  President's 
wife,  an'  I  da'  say  nary  one  on  'em  gits  so  good,  for 
I  s'pose  likely  they  depends  on  hired  gals  tu  make 
'em."  And  his  companions  heartily  seconded  the 
praise. 

"  It  looks  consid'able  nat'ral  raound  here,"  he 
said,  as  his  eyes  roved  over  the  old  house  and  its 
surroundings,  "  on'y  jest  a  leetle  older  'n  it  was 
twenty-five,  mebby  thirty  year  ago  —  time  o'  the 
war,  anyway  —  when  I  was  here  'long  wi'  the 
m'lishy." 

"You  don't  say  !  "  his  hostess  cried.  "  Why,  I 
can  jest  remember  a-seein'  the  soldiers  here  all 
raound,  an'  haow  scairt  I  was  !  My  !  " 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  255 

"  It  hain't  posserble  !  You  don't  look  as  if  you 
could  ha'  be'n  borned  then,"  Uncle  Lisha  gallantly 
declared. 

"  Wai,  I  was  then,"  she  answered  with  a  pleased 
little  laugh,  "  an'  I  remember  seein'  the  soldiers 
here  an'  the  British  boats  'way  acrost  the  lake  an' 
hearin'  the  cannons  firin'  over  tu  the  P'int."  And 
so  the  two  fell  to  telling  of  scenes  that  had  been 
impressed  distinctly  on  the  memory  of  one  in  the 
prime  of  manhood,  and  no  less  so  on  the  infantile 
mind  of  the  other. 

"  Wai,  we  shall  haftu  be  a-goin',"  Uncle  Lisha 
said,  turning  away  reluctantly,  "  I  want  tu  take 
these  men  aout  ont'  the  P'int  here  where  they  can 
see  the  broad  lake." 

"  An'  you  want  to  go  to  the  landin'.  It 's  got 
tu  be  quite  a  place,  with  a  hoss  boat  a-runnin'  on 
the  ferry  to  Grog  Harbor." 

"  A  hoss  boat  ?  You  don't  say  !  Wai,  that  's 
suthin'  I  never  did  see,  ner  these  men  nuther,  I  '11 
warrant.  We  're  a  thaousand  times  obleeged  tu  ye 
for  the  nutcakes  an'  cider,  marm." 

"  An'  so  be  I  tu  you,"  said  she  heartily.  "  I 
tell  aour  folks  they  'd  ortu  kill  that  ol'  torment. 
He 's  treed  me  oncte,  an'  naow  I  take  a  club  when 
I  go  where  he  is  ;  but  aour  folks  say  he  ain't  cross, 
on'y  jest  notional." 

"  Darn  sech  notions,"  said  Joseph,  caressing  his 
recent  bruises  ;  "I  wish 't  he  'd  got  'em  aouten  his 
head  'fore  I  met  him." 


256  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  Why,  Jozeff ,  you  did  n't  exactly  meet  Mm,  he 
kind  o'  overtook  ye,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  "  Wai,  good-day,  marm ; " 
and  they  strolled  away  to  the  woods  and  the  end  of 
the  point  where  the  sheer  wall  bears  its  green  crown 
of  cedar  high  above  the  lake. 

The  broad  bay  lay  before  them,  and  beyond  the 
bold  promontories  of  Thompson's  Point  and  Split 
Rock  the  broader  lake  stretched  far  north  to 
reach  the  sky.  The  lake  was  ruffled  by  a  north 
erly  breeze,  and  the  white  sails  of  the  sloops  and 
schooners  running  before  it,  or  beating  against  it, 
gleamed  against  blue  waves  and  sky,  but  among 
them  all  not  one  such  imposing  tower  of  canvas  as 
Uncle  Lisha  had  seen  when  the  British  brigs  were 
swooping  down  on  their  expected  prey. 

"  Why,  they  looked  julluk  meetin'  haousen, 
a-comin'  over  the  water,  an'  the  gunboats  swarmin' 
raound  'em  looked  sassy,  I  tell  ye.  I  s'pose  aour 
folks  was  afeared  they  might  land  a  mess  o'  sojers 
here  an'  go  over  cross  lots  tu  where  aour  ships  lay 
in  t'  other  crik  an'  destr'y  'em,  an'  that 's  why  we 
was  posted  here.  But  they  never  come  a-nigh  us 
an'  kep'  right  on  to  where  the'  was  a  good  lickin' 
a-waitin'  for  'em,  an'  they  got  it,  tew." 

When  Joseph  had  crept  to  the  verge  of  the  cliff 
and  ventured  one  brief  glance  downward  where 
the  waves  chuckled  wickedly  in  the  low-roofed 
caves,  he  was  ready  to  go,  and  they  wended  their 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  257 

way  to  the  ferry  just  in  time  to  see  the  horse  boat 
come  splashing  into  port,  the  four  horses  plodding 
their  unprogressive  journey  on  the  revolving  wheel, 
whose  foothold  always  slid  away  beneath  and  be 
hind  them,  and  continually  returned  in  a  perpetual 
round  of  monotony. 

A  drove  of  cattle  in  the  first  day  of  their  long 
journey  on  the  hoof  to  Boston  markets  crowded 
the  deck  with  their  drivers  and  a  few  other  pas 
sengers,  while  the  captain  steered  his  craft  in 
austere  silence  till  he  shouted  "  Whoa "  to  his 
crew,  who  was  the  driver  of  the  horses  and  passed 
the  command  to  them,  whereat  they  stood  still  and 
the  boat  surged  up  to  the  wharf  with  a  bump  that 
jostled  all  her  animate  freight  and  shook  some 
profanity  from  the  lips  of  her  commander. 

When  the  boat  was  made  fast  there  was  a  stir 
of  preparation  in  the  group  of  prospective  passen 
gers  on  the  wharf,  while  the  cattle  swarmed  ashore, 
urged  by  their  drivers  and  followed  by  their  other 
fellow  voyagers  edging  after  them,  step  by  step, 
in  slow  impatience,  and  all  regarded  with  impartial 
interest  by  the  little  company  of  spectators. 

These  presently  turned  their  attention  to  a  tin- 
peddler,  who  was  driving  his  red  cart  aboard  bound 
on  a  trading  expedition  among  the  foreigners  of 
the  other  shore.  A  bunch  -of  brooms  stuck  upright 
in  the  hinder  end  of  it,  like  the  banner  of  the 
Dutch  admiral,  yet  emblematic  only  of  a  peaceable 


258  UNCLE  LISHA' S   OUTING. 

conquest  of  housewives'  hoarded  rags  and  dried 
apples,  some  spoils  of  which  were  already  gathered 
in  sacks  and  bales  on  the  roof  of  the  cart.  The  ped 
dler  was  a  much  less  important  figure  in  the  world 
than  either  the  sharp-faced  wool-buyer  or  the  oily 
old  cheese  speculator  who  now  led  their  horse  and 
buggy  aboard,  but  he  and  his  red  cart  with  its 
visible  proof  of  traffic  were  greater  objects  of 
interest  to  the  spectators,  as  was  the  grizzled  old 
hunter  who  had  outlived  the  deer  of  Vermont,  and 
with  his  gaunt  hounds,  so  long-eared  and  sad-faced 
that  Uncle  Lisha  regretted  Sam's  absence,  was  on 
his  way  to  put  his  long  rifle  to  its  old  use  in  the 
still  happy  hunting-grounds  beyond  the  lake. 

After  the  ferryboat  had  waited  a  while  for  a 
possible  additional  fare,  which  indeed  came  at  top 
speed  from  the  door  of  the  stone  tavern,  the  cap 
tain  gave  the  order  to  the  crew,  the  crew  cracked 
his  whip  and  shouted  to  the  horses,  who  began 
their  stumbling  tramp,  and  the  boat  paddled  off  on 
her  course. 

As  the  loungers  dribbled  away,  some  to  the 
socialities  of  the  barroom,  others  to  their  homes, 
and  the  lowing  of  the  cattle  and  the  shouts  of  the 
drovers  were  blended  in  the  distance,  Uncle  Lisha 
and  his  comrades  strolled  in  the  direction  of  the 
farmhouse. 

"  I  do'  know  but  it 's  ridin'  a  free  hoss  tew  fur, 
but  I  'm  a-goin'  tu  ask  'em  for  a  pocketful  o'  them 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  259 

apples  'at 's  a-layin'  on  the  ground,"  the  old  man 
said.  "  Looks  's  if  the'  was  more  'n  they  knowed 
what  tu  du  with." 

"  All  raght,  One'  Lasha,  Ah  '11  go  on  de  lake 
an'  wait  for  you  an'  Zhozeff,  an'  mebby  Ah  '11  shot 
some  dawk."  So  saying,  Antoine  skirted  the 
orchard  on  his  way  toward  the  shore  while  the 
others  went  to  the  house.  There  they  lingered  a 
while  to  talk  with  their  hostess,  and  then,  their 
request  being  cheerfully  granted,  they  filled  their 
pockets  with  mellow  apples  and  went  on  to  join 
Antoine. 

Their  steps  were  hastened  by  the  roar  of  his 
gun,  and  they  found  him  rejoicing  over  three 
plump  teal  which  were  the  result  of  the  shot. 
After  giving  the  particulars  of  the  exploit,  Antoine 
shouldered  the  bag,  which  had  grown  plethoric 
since  he  left  them,  and  picking  up  his  gun  and 
game,  set  forth  to  camp. 

"  Why,  Ann  Twine,"  Uncle  Lisha  remarked  as 
the  Canadian  trudged  on  before  him,  "  you  hev 
be'n  spry  tu  git  three  ducks  an'  sech  a  snag  o' 
wa'nuts  sen  you  left  us.  You  hain't  shucked  'em, 
I  know  by  the  bulge  on  'em,  but  it  don't  seem  's 
'ough  you  'd  ortu  took  quite  so  many  'thaout 
askin'." 

"  Was  Ah  '11  ask  it  de  squirly  ?  He  was  all  de 
one  gat  it,"  was  the  laconic  answer. 

Arriving   at     camp   without    further   incident, 


260  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

Antoine  flung  down  his  burden  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  exclaiming  as  he  straightened  his  shoul 
ders  :  — 

"  Bah  gosh,  dat  happle  pooty  heavy  for  carry  !  " 

"  Apples  ?  "  Uncle  Lisha  repeated  in  surprise. 
"  Is  them  apples  ?  Where  on  airth  did  you  git 
'em?" 

"  Wai,  seh,  One'  Lasha,"  said  Antoine,  with  an 
air  of  supreme  satisfaction,  "  Ah  '11  was  peek  it 
up  while  you  was  ask  for  it.  Ah  '11  t'ink  dat  was 
save  tarn  prob'ly,  an'  if  dey  '11  ant  give  it,  dat  was 
save  de  happle.  Hem,  One'  Lisha?" 

"  So  you  went  an'  stole  them  folkses  apples," 
cried  the  old  man  indignantly.  "You  tarnal 
mean,  mis'able  creetur,  I  'm  a  good  min'  tu  make 
ye  kerry  'em  right  stret  back.  I  be,  I  swan  !  " 

"  Ah  '11  can'  do  it,  One'  Lasha  ;  Ah  '11  too  tire, 
me.  But  if  you  '11  want  for  carry  it,  Ah  '11  was 
help  you  load  it  on  you  back." 

"  Ann  Twine,"  Uncle  Lisha  roared  with  kin 
dling  wrath,  "  you  pick  up  them  apples  an'  kerry 
'em  stret  back  where  you  got  'em,  or  I  '11  shake  ye 
aouten  yer  boots !  "  and  the  flash  of  fire  in  the 
gray  eyes  implied  certain  execution  of  the  threat. 

Antoine  at  once  swung  the  bag  up  on  his  shoul 
der  and  started  off  with  it  in  suEen  silence.  It  is 
probable  that  he  went  no  further  than  fairly  out  of 
sight,  and  then  emptying  its  ill-gotten  contents 
spent  the  hour  of  his  supposed  journey  in  a  com- 


AN  INLAND  EXPLORATION.  261 

fortable  nap ;   but   Uncle   Lisha's  conscience  was 
relieved. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  was  spent  in  idling 
about  camp,  till  at  sundown  the  party  repaired  to 
the  landing  to  watch  for  Sam's  return. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

UNEXPECTED    VISITORS. 

"  WAL,  here  you  be,  boy,"  said  Uncle  Lisha, 
"  an'  I  'm  glad  tu  see  ye,  for  it 's  a-gittin'  consid'- 
able  ca'julluky  aout  yender  for  your  milkweed  pod. 
Good  airth  an'  seas  !  What  a  snag  o'  ducks  you 
got !  Sixteen,  sebenteen,  eighteen,  nineteen  !  Yes, 
sir  ;  nineteen  !  Jullook  o'  there,  Ann  Twine ;  he  's 
skunked  the  hull  caboodle  on  us!  Le'  me  see, 
you  got  three,  an'  me  an'  Jozeff  —  wal,  we  hain't 
caounted  aourn  yit." 

"  Pooh,  dat  ant  notings  !  "  said  Antoine,  con 
temptuously  poking  the  pile  of  ducks  with  his  toe. 
"  Ant  he  '11  gat  hoiily  nanteen  dawk  in  dat  crik  all 
to  hese'f  ?  Dat  ant  much  for  do,  an'  what  leetly 
feller  dey  was !  One  tarn  w'en  Ah  '11  leeve  in 
Canada  Ah  '11  keel  forty  wid  club  ;  yes,  seh,  an' 
dey  was  gre't  beeg  feller.  Yes,  seh,  dey  was 
geeses." 

"  Sho,  Ann  Twine,  I  guess  they  was  in  the  aig." 

"  No,  seh,  dey  was  in  Canada,  sem  Ah  '11  tol' 
you,  an'  if  you  '11  ant  b'lieved  me  Ah  '11  goin'  tol' 
you  de  trute.  You  see  de  way  of  it,  he  come  on 


UNEXPECTED   VISITORS.  263 

stubbly  graoun'  for  pick  de  hoat  was  jus'  sow,  an' 
he  steek  hees  foot  on  de  mud  so  he  can'  pull  it,  an' 
den  he  froze  heem  fas'  'cause  it  mos'  winter  ;  so 
den  Ah '11  ant  not'ing  for  do  honly  knock  hees 
head  of  it." 

"  What  be  you  a-tellin'  ?  "  Uncle  Lisha  groaned. 
"  Oats  jes'  sowed  on  stubble  in  the  fall !  Du,  fer 
massy's  sake,  lie  reason'ble  if  you  must  lie." 

"  Oh,  One'  Lasha !  "  Aiitoine  said,  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  If  Ah  prove  mah  storee  you  '11  ant  b'lieved 
it.  Haow  you  s'pose  mans  was  goin'  for  rembler 
everyt'ing  was  happen  in  hees  laftam  w'en  he 
happen  so  many,  hein?  It  was  two  tarn  Ah '11 
keel  forty  wid  stick,  one  tarn  in  de  sprim  an'  one 
tain  in  de  fall !  Come,  le'  's  go  on  de  camp.  De 
patack  was  mos'  all  bile,  prob'ly,  an'  de  dawk  ready 
for  Cook.  Sam,  you  wan'  save  dis  leetly  feller  ?  " 
touching  the  ducks  again  with  a  scornful  toe. 

"  Sam  Hill,"  said  Joseph,  just  finding  words  to 
express  his  admiration.  "  If  that  'ere  hain't  a 
harnsome  mess  o'  feathers.  Samwil,  if  you  '11  let 
me  pick  them  tu  the  halves,  M'ri  '11  be  more'n 
willin'  'at  I  come,  or  leastways  she  'd  ort  tu  be, 
seems 's  'ough." 

"  You  c'n  hev  the  hull  on  'em  tu  feather  your 
nest,  for  all  me,"  Sam  replied,  cringing  from  a 
fresh  contact  with  his  wet  trousers  in  a  way  that 
attracted  Uncle  Lisha's  attention. 

"  Why,  Samwil,"  he  cried,  as  he  laid  a  tentative 


264  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

hand  on  one  of  the  legs.  "You've  be'n  in  the 
water.  Hes  that  'ere  mis'able  aigshell  be'n  a 
spillin'  on  ye?  I  allers  said  it  'ould.  I  wish't 
the  dumbed  Injin  contraption  was  smashed  finer  'n 
a  barn  fore  it  draounds  ye." 

"  It  never  tipped  over  wi'  me  yit,"  Sam  pro 
tested.  "  I  went  int'  the  water  a  purpose." 

"  A-wadin'  arter  ducks  ?  You  tarnal  fool,  this 
time  o'  year?  " 

"No,  I  didn't,"  Sam  answered  doggedly. 

"  Wai,  then,  what  did  ye  for  ?  " 

"  Wai,  if  you  've  got  tu  know,  the'  was  a  leetle 
chap  tumbled  int'  the  crik  a-fishin'  all  alone,  an'  I 
hed  tu  fish  him  aout,  tu  keep  him  from  draoundin', 
an'  it  iiat' rally  was  sort  of  a  wet  job." 

"  I  wan't  cal'latin'  tu  scold  ye  for  no  sech  a 
thing,  Samwil,"  Uncle  Lisha  said  in  a  low  voice  as 
he  laid  his  hand  on  Sam's  shoulder,  "  but  you  'd 
better  go  an'  dry  ye  off  by  the  fire."  And  so  they 
all  set  forth  toward  the  camp,  these  two  leading  the 
way. 

As  they  drew  near  it  they  were  astonished  to 
hear  the  unmistakable  sound  of  female  voices, 
and  singularly  familiar  ones.  Sam  coming  first  in 
sight  of  the  place  signaled  silence  and  a  halt  to  his 
companions,  who  gathered  close  at  his  back,  and 
all  stood  and  stared  in  wonder  not  unmingled  with 
dismay  upon  the  unexpected  invasion  of  the  camp. 

Two  women  were  nosing   about,  turning   their 


UNEXPECTED   VISITORS.  265 

sun-bonnets  like  telescopes  this  way  and  that  in 
diligent  inspection  of  every  object,  now  focusing  a 
common  centre  of  interest,  now  separately,  in  search 
of  new  diversions  and  discoveries.  These  move 
ments  were  accompanied  by  remarks  which  were 
not  very  flattering.  The  faces  were  indistinct  in 
the  depths  of  the  sun-bonnets,  but  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  forms,  motions,  and  voices  of  Aunt 
Jerusha  and  Huldah. 

"  I  don't  b'lieve  they  've  swep'  up  sence  they 
be'n  here,"  said  the  first,  making  a  slow  inspection 
of  the  fireplace  and  its  littered  surroundings. 

"  Swep'  ? "  the  other  returned  sarcastically. 
"  Why,  they  hain't  got  so  much  as  a  hemlock 
broom,  I  warrant  ye,  which  they  might  easy 
enough,  for  jullook  at  the  cedar  a-growin'  all 
araound." 

"  I  know  it,"  Aunt  Jerusha  acquiesced,  "  jest  as 
good  if  not  full  better,  not  scatterin'  itself  so  bad." 

"  An'  will  you  look  at  that  'ere  fryiii'-pan  ? " 
cried  Huldah,  holding  off  the  utensil  with  gingerly 
hands  at  a  distance,  yet  bringing  the  muzzle  of  her 
bonnet  to  closer  inspection.  "  I  can  caount  the 
leavin's  o'  three  cookin's  in  't,  plain." 

"  Sam  Hill,  hain't  I  glad  M'ri  hain't  here  tu 
see  that  'ere,"  Joseph  whispered,  "  an  acre  o' 
feathers  would  n't  caount  ag'in  leavin'  on  't  so ; 
wal,  mebbe  that 's  settin'  on  't  high,  say  half  an 
acre." 


266  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

"  An'  see  them  pertaters.  I  '11  be  baound 
they  're  all  b'ilin'  tu  pieces,"  cried  Aunt  Jerusha, 
fluttering  over  to  the  pot  and  peering  into  it  while 
she  blew  away  the  steam.  "  Yes,  they  be,  true  's 
you  live.  Can't  you  take  'em  oft7,  Huldy  ?  " 

"  'T  ain't  likely  there 's  no  sech  a  thing  as  a 
holder.  I  da'  say  they  use  a  bunch  o'  leaves  or  a 
dirty  stockin',"  said  Huldah,  rushing  to  the  rescue 
of  the  potatoes  ;  "  but  thank  goodness  I  've  got  my 
apron,"  and  she  whisked  the  kettle  off,  keeled  it 
and  set  it  by  the  fire  in  a  trice. 

"  Or  mebby  the'  hats,"  Aunt  Jerusha  suggested, 
still  dwelling  on  holders.  "  Jest  think  on 't,  Lisher 
might  ha'  fetched  his  luther  apron."  And  Uncle 
Lisha  gave  Sam  an  appreciative  dig  in  the  side 
with  his  elbow. 

Then  the  two  women  backed  off  a  little  to  take  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  scene,  making  inquiries 
and  responses  of,  "  Did  you  ever  ?  "  and  "  No,  I 
never,"  till  they  fell  into  a  fit  of  laughter  which 
they  were  obliged  to  sit  down  to  finish,  while  the 
spectators  made  a  silent  exchange  of  imbecile  grins. 
When  the  camp  inspectors  had  exhausted  their 
mirth,  they  discovered  the  tent  and  flew  to  it. 
Now  their  heads  were  thrust  far  inside  in  minute 
inspection,  now  withdrawn  and  the  muzzles  turned 
to  each  other  with  divers  nods  and  shakes  of  assent 
and  dissent,  accompanied  by  spasmodic  movements 
of  their  bodies,  all  of  which  gave  evidence  of  invid- 


UNEXPECTED   VISITORS.  267 

ious  remarks  and  indulgence  in  unseemly  mirth. 
All  this  was  endured  in  silence  by  the  spectators 
of  the  inquest  till  the  older  woman  began  poking 
at  the  contents  of  the  tent  with  a  long  stick,  when 
Uncle  Lisha  could  restrain  himself  no  longer,  but 
rushed  forward  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  Hello,  you  women ;  what  you  duin'  in  there !  " 

Thereupon  the  intruders  backed  out  of  the  tent, 
and  facing  about  showed  the  rightful  occupants  a 
far  bolder  front  than  they  could  muster,  caught  as 
they  were  in  all  unseemly  ways  of  housekeeping. 

"  Why,  Lisher  Paiggs,  haow  du  ye  du  ?  "  cried 
Aunt  Jerusha,  beaming  upon  her  husband,  and 
Huldah  called  out  heartily :  - 

"  Haow  be  ye,  Sam,  an'  all  of  ye  ?  " 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  is  that  you  ? "  Uncle 
Lisha  shouted.  "  Why,  I  thought  you  was  couple 
o'  schoolgals  a-snoopin'  raound.  Wai,  seein'  you 
ast,  I  do'  know  's  I  'm  none  the  better  for  seein' 
you,  considerin'  haow  you  talk  abaout  aour  haouse- 
keepin'." 

"  Wai,  naow,  Lisher,  you  can't  deny  but  it 's  a 
leetle  mite  thick  under  the  nail,"  said  his  wife. 

"  By  gosh,  Aunt  Jerrushy,"  cried  Antoine,  com 
ing  to  the  front,  "  you  was  come  de  wrong  day. 
Dis  ant  aour  day  for  wash  de  dish.  We  jes' 
daown  to  de  lake  for  see  if  dere  was  waters  'nough 
for  wash  to-morry,  an'  we  make  off  aour  min'  we 
got  for  wait  till  he  rise." 


268  UNCLE  LISIIA'S   OUTING. 

"  Haow  come  ye  tu  come,  anyway?"  Uncle 
Lisha  demanded.  "  Sed  daown  an'  make  your 
selves  tu  hum,  an'  tell  us  'baout  it,"  and  he  waved 
them  hospitably  to  one  of  the  fireside  logs.  "  Aour 
gal  '11  git  tea  ready  tu  rights.  Come,  Miss  Ann 
Twine,  you  want  tu  be  gittin'  aout  your  sweetcakc 
an'  plum  sass  an'  jell,  for  we  got  comp'ny." 

"  Ah  '11  gat  all  of  it  in  de  pettetto  keetly,  an'  de 
res'  of  it  Ah  '11  gat  pooty  soon,"  Antoine  answered 
promptly,  and  began  bustling  about  the  fire,  heat 
ing  the  frying-pan  and  scouring  it  with  a  stone  — 
as  he  would  never  have  thought  of  doing  but  for 
the  presence  of  the  guests.  They  eyed  his  move 
ments,  but  politely  refrained  from  audible  comment. 
Then  seeing  the  ducks,  they  fell  into  a  poultry- 
wives'  admiration  of  them. 

"  My,  I  never  see  sech  harnsome  ducks,"  cried 
Huldah,  "  an'  you  got  all  them  sence  you  come 
here  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  got  these  til-day,  jes'  myself,  an'  I  do' 
know  what  the  rest  on  'em  has  got,"  Sam  answered, 
and  then  Huldah  detected  the  condition  of  his 
nether  garments,  and  she  took  him  to  task  forth 
with. 

"  Why,  Sam  Lovel,  what  in  this  livin'  world 
you  be'n  a-duin'  to  your  trowses  ?  You  be'n  wadin' 
hit'  the  river  with  'em?  An'  the  water  jest  as 
cold  as  ice.  An'  you  've  be'n  a-duin'  on  't  every 
day  sence  you  come  here  an'  got  the  rheumatiz 


UNEXPECTED   VISITORS.  269 

tucked  ontu  ye  an'  the  phthisic  an'  nob'dy  knows 
what  all,  jest  tu  shoot  a  duck.  You  '11  ketch  your 
death  jest  as  sure  as  you  live,  for  a  few  leetle  mis'- 
able  ducks.  You  shan't  never  come  here  again, 
not  if  I  c'n  help  it.  Hain't  it  a  caution.  Naow 
you  go  intu  that  tent  an'  take  right  off  them 
trowses  an'  hand  'em  aout  tu  me  an'  le'  me  dry 
'em  an'  you  cover  up  in  the  blankets  till  they  be. 
I  should  think  you  'd  know  better  an'  should  n't 
ha'  s'posed  Uncle  Lisher  'd  ha'  let  ye." 

Before  Sam  could  say  a  word  in  his  own  defense 
he  was  judged  and  sentenced,  but  when  Huldah 
stopped  to  breathe  Uncle  Lisha  put  in  a  plea  for 
him. 

"Naow,  Huldy,  you  quit  a-scoldin'  on  him,  for 
he  hain't  be'n  in  the  water  afore  sen'  we  be'n 
here,  an'  he  went  into  't  tu  save  a  leetle  boy 
from  draoundin'.  I  guess  that  'ere  leetle  sha 
ver's  mother  wouldn't  wanter  hev  Samwil  scolded." 

Huldah's  voice  shook  a  little,  and  the  look  she 
gave  her  husband  was  anything  but  reproachful  as 
she  said  :  — 

"  Why,  Sam,  haow  'd  I  know  ?  You  set  ri' 
daown  here  by  the  fire  an'  dry  ye  an'  tell  me  all 
about  it.  Folks  hain't  half  so  apt  tu  ketch  cold  if 
they  let  the'  clo's  dry  on  'em.  Le'  me  fill  your  pipe 
for  ye.  Did  you  run  a  tumble  resk?  Did  he 
come  all  right  ?  Haow  old  was  he  ?  " 

These  and  many  more  questions  he  was  called 


270  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

upon  to  answer  as  he  toasted  his  legs  between 
whiles  of  keeping  them  out  of  Antoine's  way,  who 
as  nearly  as  could  be  was  on  all  sides  of  the  fire  at 
once. 

At  the  same  time  Aunt  Jerusha  hovered  about 
him,  intent  on  motherly  offices  from  which  she 
could  not  be  diverted  until  Uncle  Lisha  had 
shouted  at  her  three  times  with  increasing  volume 
of  voice. 

"  Haow  come  ye  tu  come  ?  Good  airth  an' 
seas  !  that  's  what  I  want  tu  know,"  while  Joseph 
could  not  find  a  chance  to  inquire  after  the  wel 
fare  of  his  father  or  to  ask  what  message  M'ri  had 
sent. 

"What  was  't  you  was  sayin',  father?"  Aunt 
Jerusha  asked  at  last,  yet  still  giving  her  attention 
to  Sam.  "  Haow  'd  we  come  ?  Why,  we  tackled 
right  up  the  waggin  an'  come  along.  But  we 
never  tol'  nob'dy  'at  we  was  a-comin'  here.  The'  'd 
ha'  be'n  objections,  no  eend  on  'em,  if  we  'd  ha' 
tol'.  Hedn't  you  better  pull  ye'  boots  off,  Sam- 
wil,  an'  stick  ye'  feet  up  on  that  chunk  ?  An'  so 
you  see,  Huldy  she  hed  some  dried  apple  'at  she 
wanted  tu  trade  off,  an'  we  jest  fixed  it  up  betwixt 
us  'at  we  'd  fetch  it  daown  tu  Vergennes  an'  stay 
over  night  tu  Cousin  Chase's  an'  then  come  here  ! 
An'  so  we  did,  an'  here  we  be.  Hain't  you  glad 
tu  see  us  ?  You  don't  act  as  if  you  was,  not  tur- 
rible." 


UNEXPECTED   VISITORS.  271 

"Why,  yes,  we  be  tew,"  Uncle  Lisha  protested  ; 
"  but  you  see,  you  took  us  kinder  onawares." 

"  We  did  n't  hev  time  tu  put  on  aour  tother 
do's,"  said  Sam. 

"  Wai,  tu  tell  the  truth  an'  not  no  jokin'  abaout 
it,"  said  Aunt  Jerusha,  "we  fetched  daown  all  on 
ye's  tother  clo's  as  fur  as  Cousin  Chase's,  an'  there 
they  be." 

"  You  did  n't  never,  Jerushy  Paiggs,"  said  her 
husband  incredulously ;  but  she  nodded  repeated 
affirmatives  and  smiled  serenely. 

"  Wai,  then,  what  did  ye  for  ?  Be  you  goin'  tu 
sell  'em  or  be  you  goin'  tu  take  us  to  meetin'  or 
a-visitin',  or  what  is  't?  " 

"  No,  not  nary  one,"  said  she  after  a  moment's 
enjoyment  of  her  auditors'  mystification  ;  "  but  tu 
the  caravan  'at 's  comin'  nex'  day  arter  tu-morrer. 
We  cal'lated  you  'd  plan  tu  go  to  't,  an'  we  'd  go 
tew,  on  Bub's  'caount.  His  gran'pa  an'  gran'ma  's 
goin'  tu  fetch  him,  an'  we  wan't  a-going  tu  hev  you 
raound  in  your  ol'  ev'yday  clo's." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  if  I  had  n't  clean  forgot 
it !  "  Uncle  Lisha  declared  in  genuine  surprise  at 
his  forgetfulness  of  so  important  an  event. 

"  Seems  's  'ough  I  did  kinder  think  on  't  when 
you  was  a-carummuxin'  wi'  that  ol'  ram,"  said  Jo 
seph  ;  "  but  I  hain't  thought  on  't  sence  an'  I  do' 
know  when  afore." 

"  Forgot   it !  "    Aunt    Jerusha  exclaimed  with 


272  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

mild  scorn;  "that's  a  likely  story,  an'  it  all  pic- 
tered  aout  in  red  an'  yaller  ev'ywheres.  Any 
ways,  it  is  naow  up  tu  Danvis  even  on  tu  folkses 
barns,  an'  ev'ybody's  a-goin'." 

"  On  Bub's  'caount,  I  s'pose,"  her  husband  re 
marked,  bestowing  a  wink  upon  the  company.  "  I 
do'  know  what  we  'd  all  du  if  it  wan't  for  that 
boy." 

"  I  don't  nuther,"  Aunt  Jerusha  assented  heart 
ily.  "  But  it  don't  signify.  "  We  're  all  a-goin' 
an'  a-goin'  lookin'  somehaow.  Oh,  you  needn't 
think  me  an'  Huldy  did  n't  fetch  aour  tother  bun- 
nits,"  as  she  detected  a  quizzical  glance  at  the 
gingham  sun-bonnets.  "  An'  you  needn't  worry 
none ;  we  made  cal'lations  on  your  not  bein'  pre 
pared  for  comp'ny  an'  laid  in  wi'  the  folks  where 
we  left  aour  hoss  and  waggin  tu  keep  us  over  night 
in  case  you  didn't  hev  spare  beds." 

"  We  got  feathers  'nough,  seems  's  'ough,"  Jo 
seph  said,  "  but  I  don't  know  'baout  the  tick,  not 
sca'cely." 

"  An'  we  fetched  along  a  loaf  o'  bread  an'  some 
butter,  an'  some  b'iled  aigs  an'  some  quick  pickles," 
Aunt  Jerusha  continued,  casting  a  doubtful  eye 
upon  Antoine's  panful  of  fried  duck,  "  'cause  we 
did  n't  know  but  what  you  might  be  gittin'  short ; 
but  I  will  say  it  smells  better  'n  it  looks.  Be  ye 
gittin'  dried  off,  Samwil  ?  They  be  rael  socierable 
folks  where  we  left  the  hoss.  Harris  is  the  name 


UNEXPECTED   VISITOES.  273 

—  I  b'le'  so,  an'  they  'peared  tu  be  consid'able 
'quainted  wi'  some  on  ye."  She  cast  a  quizzical 
glance  around,  ending  at  Huldah,  who  shook  her 
head.  "  Why,  good  land !  what  hurt  '11  it  du  ? 
Don'  they  all  know  what  they  done?  " 

"What  in  time  be  you  a-drivin'  at?"  Sam 
asked.  Huldah  still  shook  her  head  and  gave  at 
the  same  time  a  deprecatory  "  S-h-h,"  but  Aunt 
Jerusha  persisted  in  telling  her  tale. 

"Why,  nothin',  only  them  folks  was  a-tellin' 
haow  't  an  ol'  man  an'  a  fat  man  come  there  one 
day  with  a  wil'  goose  'at  they  'd  shot,  praouder  '11 
tew  rhusters,  an'  come  tu  it  was  a  tame  wil'  goose 
'at  them  folkses  hed.  Oh,  my  sakes  ! "  She  ended 
with  a  fit  of  laughter  in  which  Sam  and  Antoine 
joined  as  they  comprehended  the  gist  of  the  story, 
while  the  heroes  of  it  looked  foolish,  though  Uncle 
Lisha  tried  to  make  light  of  it  by  saying :  — 

"  Sho,  women  folks  '11  b'lieve  anything  you  tel' 
'em.  That  'ere  Harris  '11  lie  faster  'n  a  hoss  c'n 
trot.  What  was  that  'ere  yarn  he  tol'  you,  Sam- 
wil?"  But  he  failed  to  divert  inquiry  and  was 
obliged  to  admit  the  truth  of  the  charge.  Yet  he 
was  consoled  for  this  humiliation  by  the  admiration 
that  his  real  wild  geese  drew  forth  when  he  ex 
hibited  them,  and  Joseph's  store  of  feathers  were 
given  unqualified  praise. 

Then  Antoine  announced  supper  and  the  em 
barrassed  hosts  led  their  guests  to  the  repast,  which 


274  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

they  attacked  with  no  great  zest,  having  seen  the 
cook  wipe  on  his  trousers  the  fork  with  which  he 
turned  the  contents  of  the  pan,  and  use  his  hat  for 
a  holder.  Yet  they  praised  what  was  set  before 
them,  while  making  a  meal  mostly  from  the  pro 
visions  they  had  brought  with  them.  Then  they 
helped  to  clear  the  table  and  made  the  dishes  cleaner 
than  they  had  been  since  their  first  use  here. 

After  this  all  the  company  gathered  around  the 
fire,  the  men  smoking,  Aunt  Jerusha  regaling  her 
self  with  snuff,  Hulda  unwontedly  idle  for  lack  of 
knitting,  while  all  the  latest  Danvis  news  was  told 
and  with  judicious  omissions  all  the  adventures  of 
the  camp,  and  so  well  did  the  visitors  enjoy  their 
first  taste  of  this  life  that  they  decided  to  lodge  in 
the  tent,  where  a  luxurious  bed  was  prepared  for 
them  with  a  double  allowance  of  cedar  twigs. 

At  sundown  the  north  wind  died,  but  the  pulse 
of  waves  still  beat  upon  the  beach  in  regular  re 
currence  above  the  slumberous  murmur  of  distant 
shores.  A  company  of  bitterns  were  performing  a 
farewell  rite  on  the  eve  of  migration,  uttering  un 
couth  squawks  as  they  wheeled  high  above  the 
marshes  in  awkward  gyrations,  and  frequent  flights 
of  ducks  were  whistling  past  and  splashing  into 
channel  and  marsh. 

The  busy  air  was  filled  with  sounds  that  were 
strange  to  Huldah's  ear ;  the  shuddering  cry  of  a 
screech  owl  and  the  sad  monotony  of  the  crickets 


UNEXPECTED    VISITORS.  275 

were  the  only  familiar  ones  among  them  all. 
These  with  the  slow  wash  of  waves  were  the  voices 
that  her  dreams  shaped  themselves  to,  when  with 
a  lingering  sense  of  strange  environment  she  fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 
WOMEN'S  DAY. 

THE  full  light  of  morning  had  chased  the 
shadows  from  the  camp  and  even  possessed  the 
recesses  of  the  tent  when  the  drowsy  inmates  awoke 
and  crept  forth  yawning  and  shivering  in  the  un- 
suniied  air  until  the  rekindled  fire  warmed  them. 

Then  the  women  folks  got  the  tidiest  breakfast 
the  camp  had  ever  known,  and  when  all  save 
Antoine,  who  sulked  on  his  faded  laurels,  had 
eaten  it  with  great  relish,  Huldah  went  out  and 
feasted  her  eyes  full  of  the  wonder  and  beauty  of 
the  lake,  where  it  doubled  painted  shores  in  the 
glassy  mirror  of  near  waters,  its  far  expanse  melt 
ing  into  ethereal  hills  and  further  sky,  where  dis 
tant  islands  hung  in  the  blended  azure. 

Then  while  Joseph  and  Antoine,  forlorn  bach 
elors  by  brevet,  kept  camp,  the  reunited  couples 
embarked  in  the  scow  for  a  cruise  along  the  shore 
of  the  bay. 

The  experience  gained  while  voyaging  on  the 
canal  and  the  Western  lakes  put  Aunt  Jerusha 
quite  at  ease  on  these  quiet  waters,  and  with  such 


WOMEN1 S  DAY.  277 

an  example  before  her  Huldah  was  too  proud  to 
show  any  trepidation  and  too  sensible  to  affect  it. 

"  Wai,  Huldy,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  watching  her 
as  he  steered  while  Sam  wielded  the  oars,  "  you  be 
a  nat'ral  born  sailor,  an'  you  never  in  a  boat  be 
fore,  I  '11  warrant.  Why  don't  you  jump  raound 
and  squawk  ev'  time  the  boat  jiggles  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  hain't  no  time  tu,  the'  's  so  much  tu 
look  at,"  said  she,  her  eyes  roving  far  and  near 
over  the  unfamiliar  landscape.  "  Hain't  them  pine- 
trees  ?  We  don't  hev  no  sech  tu  home.  An'  if 
there  hain't  the  Hump,  for  there  can't  be  no  other 
like  it  —  an'  hain't  that  Tater  Hill  ?  My,  what 
a  ways  off  they  be,  so  blue  they  don't  look  much 
nigher  'n  the  sky.  I  should  hate  tu  live  so  far 
from  'em  all  the  time.  Oh,  look  at  that  boat,  an' 
hain't  that  a  black  man  in  it  ?  It  sartainly  is," 
and  she  pointed  across  and  up  stream  to  where 
Jim  was  paddling  out  of  his  marshy  harbor. 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  "  that 's  one  o' 
your  husband's  friends,  Huldy.  You  'd  admire  tu 
see  what  comp'ny  he  keeps  when  he  's  daown  here, 
-  Injins  an'  niggers  an'  I  do'  know  what  all." 

"  Quakers  an'  lawyers  an'  shoemakers,"  Sam 
supplemented. 

"  An'  you  hain't  no  idee  what  cadidoes  he  cuts 
up,"  the  old  man  continued,  regarding  his  audience 
with  a  solemn  countenance,  "  a-fishin'  leetle  boys 
aouten  the  crik,  an'  wuss  'n  all,  what  you  don't 


278  UNCLE  LISHA' S   OUTING. 

never  want  tu  tell  nobody,  a-helpin'  Quakers  steal 
runaway  niggers  away  f'm  the'  owners.  Yes,  sir, 
he  done  it  an'  he  da's  n't  deny  it,"  and  Uncle  Lisha 
frowned  benignly  on  the  culprit. 

"  Why,  Samwil,"  Huldah  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
beaming  affection  and  admiration  upon  her  husband, 
while  Aunt  Jerusha  laid  a  gentle  hand  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"  "Wai,  no  wonder  both  on  ye's  mad  an'  he 
'shamed,  but  we  won't  tell  on  't  if  he  don't  du  it 
ag'in,"  said  Uncle  Lisha. 

"  Sho,  Uncle  Lisher,  what  nonsense  hev  you  be'n 
a-s'misin'  up,"  Sam  demanded,  with 'a  bold  assump 
tion  of  innocence. 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  boy !  don't  ye  s'pose  I 
know  brand  when  the  bag  's  on  tied  ?  Wha'  d  ye  go 
over  tu  that  Canuck's  boat  for?  Sellin'  apples 
proberbly.  Wha'  'd  ye  kerry  them  ducks  up  tu 
Bartlett's  for  ?  Thought  they  was  starvin'  prob 
erbly.  What  made  ye  so  tickled  when  ye  seen 
the  Canuck  boat  p'intin'  for  Canerdy  ?  Turrible 
glad  tu  git  red  on  him,  wan't  ye  ?  Oh,  you  be 
almighty  cunnin',  hain't  ye  ?  " 

Sam's  downcast  eyes  discovered  something  on 
the  boat's  bottom  which  promised  a  change  of  the 
subject  of  conversation. 

"  Why,  if  there  hain't  a  trollin'  line  an'  hook 
wi'  a  piece  o'  pork  rin'  an'  red  rag  on  't  all  rigged 
for  fishin'.  It  must  be  Antwine  had  it,  but  I  don't 


WOMEN'S  DAY.  279 

know  when.  You  put  it  aout,  Huldy,  an'  mebby 
you  c'n  ketch  a  pickerel." 

"  Me  ?  My  goodness,  I  could  n't  never.  I  've 
ketched  traouts,  but  I  can't  never  ketch  a  pickerel, 
I  know.  Would  n't  I  feel  big  tu,  though?  " 

The  line  was  let  out,  the  boat  was  slowed  down 
to  the  proper  rate  of  speed  as  it  skirted  the  chan 
nel,  and  Huldah  held  the  hand  line  with  a  grip  that 
showed  a  determination  to  be  hauled  overboard 
rather  than  relinquish  it.  When  the  boat  reached 
the  mouth  of  the  creek  her  resolution  seemed  about 
to  be  tested,  for  the  line  tightened  suddenly  with 
a  jerk  that  drew  her  arms  out  to  their  utmost 
stretch. 

"  Whoa !  whoa !  Back  up  your  waggin,  Sam," 
she  cried.  "  I  've  got  ketched  on  a  lawg  or  the  hull 
bottom  of  the  river." 

"You  hain't  nuther  !  "  shouted  Uncle  Lisha,  at 
once  recognizing  the  cause  of  the  intermittent 
strain.  "  It 's  a  fish,  an'  an  ol'  solaker.  Pull 
stiddy,  Huldy,  stiddy.  Oh,  good  airth  an'  seas  ! 
If  you  c'n  on'y  git  him  !  Keep  a  tight  line  on 
him  !  " 

"  I  sh'ld  think  he  was  a-doin'  that,"  said  Huldah, 
her  voice  shaken  by  the  beating  of  her  heart, 
though  she  presented  an  outside  appearance  of 
coolness.  Foot  by  foot  the  big  pickerel  was  drawn 
toward  the  boat  till  the  cold  gleam  of  his  wicked 
eyes  could  be  seen,  and  then  by  Uncle  Lisha's  di- 


280  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

rection  he  was  given  line,  then  hauled  in  again  till 
the  old  man  could  get  a  grip  on  his  gills  and  toss 
him  into  the  boat.  Huldah  gave  a  great  gasp  of 
relief  and  was  ready  to  cry  for  pride  when  Sam 
swung  his  hat  and  gave  a  lusty  cheer  that  was 
echoed  by  Jim,  who  had  been  watching  the  struggle 
and  now  came  paddling  over,  jerking  his  head  and 
laughing  and  offering  congratulations  while  yet 
twenty  rods  away. 

"  I  tell  ye  what,  Mr.  Lovel,  he  is  a  good  one  !  " 
Jim  cried,  as  he  ran  his  canoe  alongside  the  scow 
and  looked  at  the  fish  with  a  sort  of  proprietary 
pride  and  with  almost  as  much  satisfaction  as  if  he 
had  caught  it.  "Yes,  sir,  he  is  a  good  one,  Mr. 
Lovel.  Is  it  Mis'  Lovel  'at  ketched  him  ?  Well, 
ma'am,  you  handled  him  just  as  well  as  ever  I  ever 
see  anybody.  Yes,  sir,  you  did.  Couldn't  110 
man  done  better  —  could  n't  myself.  Naow,  if 
you  want  tu  try  it,  you  might  troll  aout  raound  the 
island.  Mighty  good  place  that  is  for  ol'  big  fel 
lers,"  and  Jim  emphasized  every  item  of  praise 
and  advice  by  a  jerk  of  the  head,  continuing  both 
till  the  crew  of  the  scow  passed  out  of  hearing, 
and  Huldah  remarked,  still  gloating  over  her  cap 
tive  :  — 

"  Wai,  Uncle  Lisher,  Samwil  might  find  wus 
comp'ny,  for  he  'pears  tu  be  a  real  sensible,  candid 
sort  of  a  man." 

When  they  entered  the  lake  Aunt  Jerusha  was 


WOMEN1  S  DAY.  281 

induced  by  much  persuasion  to  take  the  line  and  a 
chance  of  distinguishing  herself.  She  held  it  anx 
iously  and  under  continual  protest  of  inability  to 
do  so  at  all. 

"  I  can't  hold  it  so  't  any  fish  '11  ever  bite,  I 
know  I  can't.  If  anything  gits  a  holt  of  it,  I  shall 
lose  it,  I  know  I  shall.  You  'd  better  take  it, 
Huldy ;  you  've  got  used  to  't !  There  !  There ! 
There  's  suthin'  a  nibblin' !  No,  the'  hain't  nuther. 
I  knowed  the'  would  n't  nothin',  never  !  My  land  ! 
The'  is  tew !  Lisher,  Samwil,  Huldy  !  I  've  got 
him.  He  '11  git  away  !  He  '11  pull  me  in !  " 

With  frequent  abortive  snatches  at  it,  she  fran 
tically  hauled  in  the  line,  that  yielded  to  her  spas 
modic  efforts  with  a  heavy,  sluggish  resistance. 
Uncle  Lisha  unconsciously  lifted  the  paddle  from 
the  water,  Sam  quit  rowing,  and  Huldah  withdrew 
her  admiring  gaze  from  the  fish  at  her  feet,  and 
the  three  spectators  watched  the  struggle  with 
intense  interest. 

"  Lisher  Paiggs,"  cried  Aunt  Jerusha  with  un 
usual  sharpness,  "  why  don't  you  take  a  holt  an' 
help  me  stid  o'  settin'  there  like  a  scairt  fool  ?  " 

In  ready  obedience  to  this  demand,  Uncle  Lisha 
underrun  the  line  with  the  paddle  and  brought  it 
to  hand,  and  then  slowly  and  carefully  hauled  it  in 
till,  reaching  down  to  the  surface,  he  lifted  the  bur 
dened  hook  and  swung  inboard  a  big  clam. 

"  Wai,    ol'    woman,"    said   he,  collapsing  from 


282  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

high  expectation  to  deep  disgust,  "  you  hev  done  it, 
hain't  ye  ?  "  With  his  knife  he  loosened  the  vise- 
like  grip  of  the  mussel  and  was  about  to  toss  it 
overboard. 

"  Here,  don't  ye  never,  Lisher  Paiggs,"  cried 
Aunt  Jerusha,  suddenly  recovering  speech  ;  "  you 
gi'  me  that.  It 's  jest  what. I  wanted." 

"  Good  airth  an'  seas,  Jerushy,  wha'd'  ye  want 
on  't  ?  You  can't  eat  one  on  'em  110  more  you 
could  a  chunk  o'  soaked  so'  luther." 

"  No  more  I  don't  want  tu.  You  jest  clean  the 
meat  aout  on't  an'  heave  it  away  an'  gi'  me  the 
shells.  There,"  she  continued  when  possessed  of 
them,  and  holding  them  up  she  regarded  them  with 
unaffected  admiration,  "  them  's  jest  what  I  be'n 
a-wantin'  ever  sen  I  be'n  a-haousekeepin',  for  they 
be  the  completest  thing  tu  scrape  aout  a  kittle 
an'  tu  skim  milk  an'  tu  scoop  sugar  'at  ever  was. 
Mother  hed  some  'at  she  fetched  f'm  Rhode  Islan', 
an'  I  've  allus  be'n  a-wantin'  tu  git  a  holt  o'  some. 
Naow  I  've  got  'em,  an'  I  'd  a  great  sight  druther 
hev  'em  'an  a  fish  'at  '11  be  eat  right  up.  Naow, 
Lisher,  you  heave  that  'ere  fishin'  thingumbob  int' 
the  water  ag'in  an'  I  '11  ketch  Huldy  some  clam 
shells." 

Aunt  Jerusha  did  not  succeed  in  fulfilling  this 
benevolent  intention,  for  they  were  now  in  deep 
water,  but  as  they  coasted  along  the  gray  northern 
wall  of  Garden  Island  she  was  thrown  into  a  second 


WOMEN'S  DAY.  283 

fever  of  excitement  by  a  livelier  tug  at  the  line. 
This  time  it  was  a  pickerel,  which,  by  dint  of 
stout  tackle  and  good  fortune,  was  brought  to 
boat,  and  in  spite  of  her  protested  indifference  to 
such  a  capture,  she  rejoiced  over  it  exceedingly. 

They  landed  on  the  island,  and  with  Sam  acting 
as  guide  explored  its  interior.  The  garden-like 
bloom  of  its  shrubbery  no  longer  verified  the 
island's  name,  but  there  were  evidences  of  it  in  the 
abundant  black  clusters  of  viburnum  berries  and 
scarlet  haws  of  wild  roses,  and  there  were  yet 
enough  blue  and  white  blossoms  of  asters  to  make 
the  place  pleasant  to  flower-loving  women. 

The  money  diggers'  pit  in  the  centre  of  the 
island  was  a  place  of  interest  to  the  men,  for  whom 
a  hole  in  the  ground  always  has  a  fascination. 
Then  all  went  over  to  the  east  end,  where  Aunt 
Jerusha  found  some  stranded  clam-shells  for 
Huldah,  cleaner  and  brighter  than  her  own,  and  all 
found  arrow  points  of  flint  on  the  narrow  strip  of 
gravelly  beach. 

"  It  does  beat  all  natur'  haow  the  critters  made 
'em !  "  said  Uncle  Lisha,  pondering  over  a  hand 
some  hornstone  arrow-head.  "  We  could  n't,  wi' 
all  the  tools  we  got,  an'  I  hearn  an  ol'  feller  tell 
aout  West  'at  the  Injins  done  it  wi'  a  sort  o'  bone 
thingumajig,  jest  by  pushin'  on  't  with  the  hand, 
an'  he  claimed  he  'd  seen  'em  at  it,  but  I  d'  know 
'baout  it.  That  'ere  'd  make  a  toll'able  good  gun- 


284  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

flint,  an'  I  guess  I  '11  keep  it.  An'  naow,"  he  con 
tinued,  after  trying  the  flint  with  his  knife  and 
pocketing  both,  "  if  you  've  looked  at  posies  an' 
cur'osities  long  enough  le'  's  go  over  int'  the  bay 
yunder  an'  g'  up  tu  the  haouse  where  I  was  yist'- 
day  an'  git  some  apples  for  the  women  folks. 
They  're  dre'df'l  clever  folks  up  there." 

This  plan  being  approved,  the  party  voyaged 
across  the  tranquil  bay,  and  then  making  a  detour 
to  avoid  the  realm  of  the  warlike  old  Spaniard, 
went  across  the  fields  to  the  house. 

As  they  drew  near  they  sniffed  a  familiarly 
pleasant  and  pungent  odor  of  smoke  and  lye 
which  led  them  to  an  outdoor  fire  where  Uncle 
Lisha's  yesterday's  acquaintance  was  boiling  soap. 
Uncle  Lisha  introduced  his  companions,  who  were 
cordially  welcomed  by  the  mistress,  without  an 
apology  for  the  man's  hat  and  coat  she  wore,  ex 
cept  to  say :  — 

"  If  you  ever  made  soap  you  know  folks  don't 
want  tu  dress  up  much  for  it,  an'  you  c'n  see  I 
hain't." 

"  I  guess  you  don't  want  tu,"  said  Aunt  Jerusha 
sympathetically.  "It  is  turrible  messin',  clarify  in' 
the  grease,  an'  the  lye  '11  take  the  color  aout  '11 
eve'ything  it  teches." 

"  An'  so  onsartain,"  Huldah  added.  "  You 
never  know  whether  it 's  a-goin'  tu  be  soap." 

"  I  know  it,"  cried  the  housewife.     "  It  is  the 


WOMEN' 'S  DAY.  285 

provokin'est !  Your  lye  '11  bear  an  aig  like  a  cork, 
an'  your  grease  '11  be  all  right,  an'  yit  they  won't 
be  soap.  I  wonder  what 's  come  of  my  man.  If 
you  men  folks  could  find  him  mebby  it  'ould  be 
more  interestin'  'an  aour  gabbin'.  He  went  tu  git 
some  chunks.  Soap-b'ilin'  's  a  good  time  tu  burn 
up  chunks.  Gid  —  Gid-eon  !  where  be  ye  ?  I 
guess  he  '11  come,"  she  said,  after  listening  a  mo 
ment  ;  and  then  returning  to  the  subject  of  soap- 
making,  "  Some  says  it 's  'cause  the  wind 's  north, 
but  I  do'  know.  Anyways,  it  does  act  onaccount- 
able." 

"  I  believe  the  witches  or  the  OF  Cat  hisself 
gits  into  't,"  Aunt  Jerusha  declared. 

"  Same  as  intu  cream  sometimes,"  said  Huldah. 
"  Solon  Briggs  says  'at  a  piece  o'  silver  money  '11 
drive  the  witches  aout  o'  that,  an'  mebby  it  'ould 
aout  of  soap." 

"  Wai,  I  'm  goin'  tu  see  whether  it 's  soap  or 
not,"  the  soapmaker  said,  tucking  her  dress  between 
her  knees,  pulling  her  hat  over  her  eyes,  and  blow 
ing  the  steam  away  while  she  dipped  a  few  spoon 
fuls  of  the  contents  of  the  kettle  into  an  old  saucer. 
This  she  stirred  and  cooled  with  her  breath,  watch 
ing  it  anxiously,  while  her  feminine  guests  looked 
on  with  almost  as  much  interest,  as  the  liquid  drib 
bled  in  a  thin  stream  from  the  spoon. 

"Mebby  they  was  beech  ashes,"  Uncle  Lisha 
suggested,  regarding  it  and  the  disappointed  and 
vexed  face  of  the  matron. 


286  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  No,  they  was  most  all  ellum,"  she  answered. 
"  Plague  on  't,  it  don't  look  like  nothin'." 

"  Wai,  the'  hain't  no  better  ashes  than  ellum,  so 
it  ain't  that,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Try  a  leetle  dash  o'  water  in  't,"  Aunt 
Jerusha  suggested,  and  when  this  was  done  the 
liquid  at  once  thickened  in  the  saucer  and  the  face 
of  the  fair  soapmaker  relaxed  to  an  expression  of 
supreme  satisfaction,  which  was  sympathetically 
repeated  in  the  countenances  of  her  visitors. 

Gideon  now  appeared  with  an  armful  of  refrac 
tory  outcasts  from  the  woodpile  and  the  little  girls 
at  his  heels.  He  was  introduced  in  the  same 
breath  that  the  good  tidings  were  communicated  to 
him,  and  he  rejoiced  also,  while  the  little  girls  si 
lently  welcomed  their  doughty  old  champion  with 
bashful  smiles,  and,  nibbling  finger  tips  and  apron 
corners,  shyly  made  the  acquaintance  of  his  com 
panions. 

When  the  guests  were  comforted  with  apples 
and  stayed  with  flagons,  they  went  over  to  the 
ferry  harbor  and  beheld  with  intense  admiration 
that  maritime  wonder,  the  horse  boat,  arrive  and 
depart.  Uncle  Lisha  recounted  once  more  to 
Aunt  Jerusha's  willing  ears  the  events  of  his  life 
as  a  soldier,  and  she  was  proud  to  be  on  the  very 
ground  where  he  began  his  military  career,  and  de 
clared  with  great  satisfaction  :  "  This  was  'nough 
tu  pay  her  for  comin',"  while  Sam  and  Huldah 


WOMEN'S  DAY.  287 

were  so  much  interested  the  old  man  felt  himself 
quite  a  hero. 

Then  they  strolled  back  to  their  own  humble 
craft  and  coasted  along  shore  toward  camp.  Long 
before  they  saw  his  figure  idly  pacing  the  beach, 
they  heard  Antoine's  sonorous  voice  doing  its  best 
with  some  words  of  the  "  Exile  of  Erin  "  which  he 
had  picked  up  somewhere  :  — 

"  Dar  come  on  de  beach  a  poor  eggshell  of  heron, 

De  dew  on  hees  chin  rub  it  heavy  an'  chill. 
For  he  caount  on  he  side  his  two  rib  a  pair  in, 
An'  one  dar  alone  in  de  wind  by  de  hill." 

He  was  at  the  landing  to  receive  them  and  was 
profuse  in  his  compliments  to  the  anglers  when 
their  trophies  were  shown  him. 

"  Bah  gosh,  Aunt  Jerrushy !  Bah  t'under, 
Ma'am  Hudly !  You  bose  of  it  beat  One'  Lasha 
an'  Zhozeff  an'  Sam  for  feesh,  an'  'mos'  me,  w'en 
Ah  ant  try.  Prob'ly  if  Ah  '11  was  go  wid  you, 
you  ketch  lot  of  it.  But  you  do  pooty  good,  Ah 
tol'  you." 

"Yes,  they  did,  sartain,"  said  Uncle  Lisha. 
"  An'  you  'd  ort  tu  seen  her  haul  in  a  clam.  He 
fit  like  a  good  feller,  but  't  wan't  no  use,  the  ol' 
woman  was  tew  many  for  him  an'  she  muckled 
him.  An'  both  women 's  a  heap  better  sailors  'an 
Jozeff  is." 

"  Zhozeff,"  said  Antoine,  with  supreme  con 
tempt,  "  Ah  '11  was  jes'  soon  try  for  mek  feesh 


288  UNCLE  LISHA'S   OUTING. 

walk  on  de  graoun'  as  for  mek  Zhozeff  be  sailor 
mans.  An'  all  de  tarn  we  keep  haouse  to-day  he 
worry,  worry  for  'fraid  you  be  draown'  on  de 
lake." 

The  next  morning  the  preparative  bustle  of  de 
parture  began,  and  though  no  one  openly  confessed 
it,  each  felt  a  shade  of  sadness  as  the  place  grew 
bare  and  desolate  where  such  pleasant  hours  had 
been  spent. 

"  It  beats  all  natur'  haow  a  feller  gits  wonted  tu 
a  place  where  he  's  bed  a  good  time,  an'  hates  tu 
leave  it,"  Sam  said,  as  he  turned  away,  "but  it's 
hopesin'  we  '11  come  ag'in." 

"  What 's  sass  for  gander  's  sass  for  goose,  an' 
when  you  come  ag'in  I  'm  a-comin'  tew,"  said  Hul- 
dah  decidedly. 

"  If  de  hwomans  was  comin',  Ah  '11  ant,  me," 
Aiitoine  declared ;  "  it  was  spile  up  all  de  funs  for 
try  for  live  too  pooty." 

"  Wai,"  Uncle  Lisha  sighed,  "  it  hain't  noways 
likely  'at  I  '11  ever  come  ag'in." 

"  But  if  ye  du,  Lisher,  I  'm  a-comin'  tew,"  Aunt 
Jerusha  said,  as  they  departed. 

The  last  ember  snapped  out  in  dull  explosion 
and  the  last  thin  wisp  of  smoke  dissolved  in  the 
colorless  air,  and  amid  the  silence  of  desertion  the 
falling  leaves  began  the  slow  obliteration  of  man's 
transitory  sojourn. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    CARAVAN. 

TOWARD  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  Uncle 
Lisha  and  his  friends  entered  the  outskirts  of  the 
little  city,  where  the  unusual  appearance  of  a  camp 
ing  outfit  attracted  considerable  attention  and  was 
generally  believed  to  be  one  of  the  side  shows  be 
longing  to  the  coming  caravan. 

It  presently  gathered  a  following  of  boys,  and 
when  Sam  drew  rein  in  front  of  Cousin  Chase's 
tidy  house  these  were  joined  by  several  grown-up 
and  no  less  curious  idlers,  and  all  surrounded  the 
wagon  in  an  interested  group. 

"  It 's  a  nigger  show,  I  bet  ye,"  one  boy  confi 
dently  asserted. 

"Yah.  What  you  talkin'  'bout?"  cried  an 
other  contemptuously.  "  It 's  the  Injin  show  ! 
Don't  you  see  the  canew  ?  An'  that  black  feller 
up  there  's  one  of  'em ;  the  ol'  chief,  he  is." 

"  My,  don't  he  look  ugly,  though  ? "  loudly 
whispered  another,  staring  in  fascinated  horror  at 
Antoine,  who,  overhearing  these  remarks,  at  once 
fell  into  humoring  them. 


290  UNCLE  LIBRA'S  OUTING. 

"  Yas,  sah,  Ah  '11  was  big  Injin,  me  !  Ant 
you  see  liaow  Ah  '11  was  sca'p  dis  hoi'  mans  ? " 
He  lifted  Uncle  Lisha's  hat,  displaying  the  shining 
bald  pate,  and  then  after  a  moment's  impressive 
silence  continued,  "  Wai,  seh,  boy,  Ah  was  tore  off 
you  hairs  jes'  lak  dat  'f  you'll  ant  ta'  careful. 
You  want  for  hear  me  spik  Injin  more  better  as 
Angleesh  ? 

"  Cangra  musquash  nawah  alamose  woisoose 
chunkamug  peskegan.  Ooop  !  " 

His  audience  listened  with  deep  admiration  to 
the  first  specimen  of  aboriginal  eloquence  which 
they  had  ever  heard. 

"  You  want  to  go  on  and  turn  to  the  left  to  get 
to  the  show  ground,"  said  a  florid  gentleman  of 
leisure,  dressed  in  a  drab  fur  hat,  blue  coat,  and 
tightly  strapped  trousers,  and  he  pointed  up  street 
with  his  cane,  which  he  then  tucked  under  his  arm, 
while  he  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  meditatively 
surveyed  the  occupants  of  the  wagon.  "  I  hope 
you  folks  don't  have  any  tight-rope  dancing  and 
the  like,"  he  continued  with  a  deprecatory  air. 
"  That 's  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the  State,  you 
know." 

"  Wai,  naow,  that 's  tew  bad,"  said  Uncle  Lisha 
in  a  grieved  voice,  and  indicating  Joseph  with  a 
jerk  of  the  thumb,  "for  this  'ere  young  man  is 
turrible  hefty  on  the  wires." 

The  florid  gentleman  thought  he  recognized  the 


THE  CARAVAN.  291 

blush  of  modest  merit  in  Joseph's  abashed  face, 
and  with  a  sly  wink  at  Uncle  Lisha  said  in  a  husky 
undertone :  — 

"  We  might  fix  up  a  leetle  private  entertain 
ment  —  in  a  barn  —  you  know,  to-night.  Select 
and  quiet,  you  know." 

"  No,  sir  !  We  're  law-abidin'  folks,"  said  Uncle 
Lisha  with  virtuous  decision.  "  Say,  can  any  on 
ye  tell  me  whether  no  Ab'm  Chase  lives  in  this  'ere 
haouse.  Good  airth  an'  seas !  If  he  don't  come 
an'  tell  us  where  tu  go  pooty  soon  we  sh'll  hefter 
hev  a  show  tu  git  red  o'  the  folks." 

"  Say,  mister,"  an  eager  boy  whispered,  clutch 
ing  Sam's  knee,  "  if  I  'd  fetch  water  for  your 
hosses,  won't  ye  let  me  go  in  for  no  thin',  me  an' 
my  little  brother  ;  he  hain't  bigger  '11  nothin' !  We 
hain't  got  no  money.  Will  ye,  mister  ?  " 

"  Why,  bub,"  said  Sam,  "  we  hain't  no  show. 
We  jest  come  tu  see  the  show,  that 's  all." 

The  boy  stared  incredulously  into  the  honest 
face  till  assured  there  was  no  guile  in  it,  and  then 
retired  in  disappointment,  leading  his  little  bro 
ther. 

Now  the  front  door  of  the  house  opened  and 
Abram  Chase  came  hurrying  out  in  a  state  of  ex 
citement  quite  incongruous  with  his  smooth-shaven 
face  and  plain,  neat  attire,  when  he  found  his 
Cousin  Jerusha's  husband  and  his  friends  standing 
unwelcomed  at  his  threshold  and  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  curious  idlers. 


292  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

"  God  zounds !  Lisher,  what  be  you  settin'  there 
for  ?  Why  did  n't  ye  come  right  in  ?  Back  up  a 
leetle  an'  haw  right  in  here  an'  drive  tu  the  barn. 
Clear  aout,  boys.  What  be  you  a-hengin'  raound 
here  for?" 

As  he  opened  the  great  gate  and  the  wagon  was 
driven  into  the  barn  the  crowd  realized  its  mistake 
and  dispersed,  the  blue-coated  gentleman  saunter 
ing  up  the  street  in  dignified  indifference,  while 
the  boys  made  a  joke  of  their  disappointment  and 
tried  to  out- jeer  one  another. 

"  Ya-ay,  Kelly,  how  much  's  the  tickets  to  your 
Injin  show  ?  Ya-ay  !  "  and  Kelly  retorted :  — 

"  Ya-ay,  Smithy,  'baout  as  much  as  it  '11  be  to  git 
int'  your  nigger  show.  Ya-ay !  "  and  both  factions 
shouted  "  Ya-ay !  "  with  a  clamor  like  that  of  a 
congregation  of  crows,  and  Uncle  Lisha  was  im 
pressed  by  the  depravity  of  town  boys  in  calling 
each  other  by  their  last  names. 

"Well,  Lisher,  haow  be  you,  anyway?  "  Abram 
Chase  inquired,  when,  after  a  bustle  of  general 
hospitality,  he  found  time  to  give  attention  to  in 
dividuals.  "An'  haow  be  you,  Samwil?  An' 
hain't  this  Joseph  HiU  ?  " 

"  Wai,  I  don't  sca'cely  seem  tu  know  whether 
no  it's  me  'r  a  Injin  'r  a  balance  master  'r  some 
other  sort  o'  show  feller,"  said  Joseph,  feeling  his 
head  and  looking  at  his  short,  stumpy  legs  to 
assure  himself  of  his  identity.  "  I  was  beginnin' 


THE  CARAVAN.  293 

tu  'xpect  Uncle  Lisher  'cl  hev  me  a-stannin'  on  my 
head  'r  a-turnin'  summersets  'fore  I  knowed  it." 

"  Bah  gosh,  Ah  '11  give  more  for  see  dat  as  all 
de  show  dey  had  to-morry,"  cried  Antoine.  With 
that  he  departed  to  his  numerous  compatriots  in 
the  "  French  village  "  at  the  other  end  of  the  town, 
and  the  others  went  into  the  house,  where  Cousin 
Chase's  good  wife  was  entertaining  Jerusha  and 
Huldah. 

Henceforth  till  bedtime  these  town  mice  and 
country  mice  compared  experiences,  now  to  the 
envy  of  one,  now  the  other. 

When  morning  came  no  one  thought  of  any 
thing  but  the  great  event  of  the  day  already  her 
alded  in  the  gray  dawn  by  the  rumble  of  the  heavy 
baggage  vans.  Habitual  early  risers  were  out  be 
times  full  clad,  to  admire  the  teams  of  large,  hand 
some  horses  and  gayly  painted  wagons,  and  slug 
gards  came  forth  half  dressed  with  garments  in 
hand  and  unshod  feet,  rubbing  sleepy  eyes  and  fum 
bling  at  buttons  with  alternate  hands  as  they 
blinked  at  the  lumbering  procession  with  a  fellow 
feeling  for  the  drowsy  drivers  and  the  weary  show 
men  asleep  on  the  jolting  piles  of  canvas. 

The  vans  rumbled  past,  transferring  the  present 
interest  to  the  show  grounds,  and  the  brief  excite 
ment  of  the  street  subsided  temporarily  while  the 
citizens  breakfasted. 

Then  the  first  influx  of  sightseers  came  hurrying 


294  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

in,  fearful  of  being  late,  though  they  reported  the 
caravan  two  miles  behind,  delayed  at  the  last 
stream  by  the  elephants  refusing  to  cross  the 
bridge.  Gradually  the  incoming  tide  of  sightseers 
increased,  some  on  foot,  whole  families  in  heavy 
farm  wagons,  and  young  fellows  with  their  sweet 
hearts  in  the  cumbersome  single  pleasure  wagons 
of  those  days,  some  of  which  had  boxes  shaped 
like  bread  trays,  others  square  ones  substantially 
framed  and  paneled,  with  high-backed  seats  cush 
ioned  with  russet-colored  leather  and  perched  at 
such  a  lofty  height  that  ascent  and  descent  were 
not  to  be  lightly  undertaken. 

At  last  the  grand  triumphal  chariot  appeared, 
blazing  and  glittering  with  scarlet  and  gold,  and 
drawn  by  four  white  horses  driven  by  a  liveried 
driver,  behind  whom  the  band  was  enthroned, 
blowing  lustily  on  brazen  bugles,  French  horns, 
trombones,  and  ophicleides,  all  in  time  to  the  thun 
derous  beating  of  a  bigger  drum  than  had  ever  been 
heard  at  a  general  muster.  Then  came  two  ele 
phants,  one  of  whom  bore  a  howdah  in  which  the 
lion  tamer  sat  dressed  like  a  Roman  gladiator  and 
quietly  smoking  an  incongruous  pipe.  These  were 
followed  by  four  camels  ridden  by  Arabs,  whose 
genuineness  became  doubtful  when  one  was  heard 
to  address  his  beast  with  "  Git  on  wid  yez,  ye  spal 
peen."  Then  came  the  train  of  closed  mysterious 
cages,  some  silent,  others  giving  forth  growls  and 
screams  of  strange  beasts  and  birds. 


THE  CAEAVAN.  295 

Close  upon  these  came  a  crowd,  hurrying  for 
fear  of  being  late,  though  it  was  two  hours  before 
the  advertised  opening  of  the  show.  Uncle  Lisha 
and  his  party,  reinforced  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Puring- 
ton,  Sis  and  her  nephew  Bub,  were  early  upon  the 
ground,  eagerly  enjoying  all  the  novel  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  busy  scene. 

Here  was  an  excited  group  of  Canadians,  inter 
spersed  with  a  sprinkling  of  cool-headed  Yankee 
jockeys,  gathered  around  three  or  four  sorry  nags 
that  looked  as  if  the  impending  changes  of  owner 
ship  could  make  little  difference  to  them  or  any  one 
else. 

"  Wai,  Joe,"  drawled  a  solemn- visaged  man, 
after  an  examination  of  one  of  these  animals  from 
all  points  of  view,  "  it  kinder  looks  tu  me 's  if  your 
hoss  hed  got  the  heaves  tucked  ontu  him  consid'- 
able  bad." 

"  Yas,  Harrum,  'e  got  some  o'  dem,"  the  owner, 
a  jolly  little  pock-marked  Frenchman,  frankly  ad 
mitted  in  a  husky  voice,  "  mais,  dey  ant  hurt  him 
mite.  You  'oss  'e  hoi',  hoi'  every  tarn  'e  hoi',  Har 
rum,  and  'e  gat  splavin  lak  geese  egg." 

"  Sho  !  That  hain't  nothin',"  said  the  other  ;  "  I 
c'n  blister  that  off  in  a  week,  smooth  as  the  palm 
o'  my  hand.  If  you  want  my  hoss  bad  'nough  tu 
gi'  me  a  dollar,  we  '11  call  it  a  trade." 

"  Oh,  Harrum !  Swappy  de  'oss  pour  de  'oss," 
the  little  man  pleaded. 


296  UNCLE  LIBRA'S  OUTING. 

"  No,  I  got  tu  liev  a  dollar  tu  boot." 

"  'Ow  Ah  goin'  give  you  more  as  Ah  gat  ?  "  Joe 
asked  piteously.  "  Ah  geeve  you  half  dollar,  dat 
all  Ah  gat,  me." 

He  held  up  the  coin  before  the  other,  who  took 
it  with  a  sigh  of  resignation,  saying,  "  Wai,  seem' 
it 's  you,  Joe,  but  I  'm  jest  the  same  as  givin'  away 
my  hoss,"  and  each  began  unharnessing  his  horse 
amid  the  congratulations  of  friends. 

The  little  group  of  Danvis  people  passed  on  to 
where  a  peddler  mounted  on  a  cart  was  auctioneer 
ing  his  wares. 

"  Oh,  just  look  what  I  've  found  tucked  away  in  a 
corner,  an'  I  thought  the  last  blessed  pair  was  sold 
yesterday,"  he  cried,  stretching  to  arms'  length  a 
pair  of  puckery  rubber  suspenders  that  smelled  in 
fernally  of  sulphur.  "  Just  look.  Stretch  like  a 
deacon's  conscience.  Long  enough  for  any  man. 
Short  enough  for  any  boy.  Oak-tanned  luther 
ends  an'  gold  buckles,  I  guess,  but  mebby  they  're 
brass.  Don't  let  your  women  folks  wear  their  fin 
gers  aout  knittin'  galluses  for  you,  but  walk  right 
up  an'  buy  a  pair  of  these  beautiful  e-lastic  sus 
penders,  worth  one  dollar  tu  any  man,  but  I  sell 
'em  for  half  that  money,  an'  tu-day,  seein'  you  all 
want  tu  save  a  quarter  to  go  hit'  the  show,  I  '11  let 
you  have  'em  for  quart'  of  a  dollar  a  pair,  an'  I  '11 
say  no  more  an'  take  no  less." 

Such  a  generous  offer  was  not  to  be  withstood, 


THE  CAEAVAN.  297 

and  the  new-fangled  suspenders  were  passed  out  to 
the  crowding  purchasers  till  it  seemed  as  if  the  red 
cart  could  have  been  laden  with  nothing  else,  yet 
the  enterprising  proprietor  was  continually  discov 
ering  some  new  article,  and  each  more  tempting 
than  the  last.  Now  it  was  a  ring  or  brooch,  now 
some  cheap  and  tuneless  instrument,  now  pocket- 
combs,  side -combs,  and  back -combs,  jackknives, 
distorting  hand  glasses,  song  books,  lives  and  con 
fessions  of  criminals,  and  so  on,  changing  as  often 
as  interest  flagged. 

There  were  numerous  booths  where  refreshments 
of  mead,  spruce  beer,  and  great  cards  of  good  old- 
fashioned  yellow  gingerbread  were  temptingly  dis 
played,  and  the  familiar,  obese,  and  blue-frocked 
figure  of  Old  Beedle  was  present,  dispensing  foam 
ing  glasses  of  innocuous  beer  from  a  cask  in  the 
tail  of  his  wagon,  and  with  them  such  kindly  words 
and  genial  smiles  that  it  seemed  to  his  juvenile 
customers  as  if  they  were  receiving  a  great  deal 
for  a  cent. 

There  were  peripatetic  venders  of  apples  in  bas 
kets,  and  home-made  molasses  candy  on  boards, 
both  wares  cried  by  the  youthful  Canadian  dealers 
at  the  usual  price  of  "Two  of  it,  one  cen'  'piece." 

Noisiest  of  all  were  the  tooters,  vociferously  pro 
claiming  the  wonders  of  the  side  shows,  the  fat 
woman  and  the  strong  man,  the  albino  negroes  and 
the  man  without  arms,  and  the  waxworks  of  Mon- 


298  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

sieur  Jonsiii  from  Paris,  all  of  which  were  now  on 
exhibition  and  each  to  be  seen  for  the  small  sum  of 
twelve  and  one  half  cents. 

The  twanging  of  the  banjo,  the  thumping  of  the 
tambourine,  the  voices  of  the  performers  and  the 
laughter  of  the  audience  sounded  smothered  and 
echoless  as  they  beat  against  the  canvas  walls,  yet 
were  most  attractive  to  the  outsiders  who  crowded 
about  the  narrow  entrances. 

As  Joseph  Hill  stood  in  rapt  admiration  of  the 
colossal  portrait  of  the  fat  woman,  counting  the 
coins  in  his  pocket  with  his  fingers,  he  was  startled 
by  hearing  his  name  called  in  a  familiarly  impera 
tive  tone,  and  looking  in  the  direction  from  whence 
it  came  saw  the  gaunt  form  of  his  father  standing 
upright  in  a  lumber  wagon,  brandishing  his  cane 
toward  him  with  one  hand  and  with  the  other  re 
straining  young  Josiah  from  leaping  to  the  ground. 
Maria,  who  with  her  daughter  Ruby  occupied  a 
portion  of  the  seat  from  which  the  patriarch  had 
risen,  was  frantically  shaking  a  handkerchief  to 
ward  her  husband,  and  Pelatiah,  who  as  driver  sat 
in  front  with  two  of  the  smaller  children,  had  his 
breath  indrawn  and  his  mouth  made  up,  to  add  his 
voice  to  the  family  call. 

"  "Wai,  if  this  don't  pooty  nigh  beat  Sam  Hill," 
Joseph  exclaimed,  as  he  hastened  over  to  them. 
"  Seem's  'ough  I  thought  o'  most  ev'b'dy  a-comin', 
but  I  swaow,  I  never  thought  o'  you  a-comin', 
father." 


THE  CARAVAN.  299 

"  You  did  n't,  hey  ?  An'  you  could  n't  hear  me 
when  I  did  come,  a-gawpin'  at  that  'ere  pictur'," 
Gran'ther  Hill  scolded  in  a  cracked  catarrhal 
voice.  "  What  is  't  a  pictur'  on,  anyway  ?  A 
elephant  dressed  up  in  women's  clo's?  I  '11  bate 
they  hain't  got  no  sech  a  critter." 

"  It 's  the  fat  lady,  father,"  Joseph  explained, 
"  an'  the  white  niggers.  Haow  come  ye  tu  come, 
father  ?  " 

"  Fat  lady  and  white  niggers,"  the  old  man 
repeated  scornfully.  "  By  the  Lord  Harry,  what 
is  this  cussed  world  a-comin'  tu  when  shes  'at  goes 
raound  showin'  their  carkisses  like  hawgs  tu  a 
cattle  show  calls  theirselves  ladies,  an'  niggers  calls 
theirselves  white !  I  come  'cause  I  was  a  mine  tu ! 
Did  n't  you  ?  Did  you  s'pose  the'  wan't  nob'dy 
but  you  a-comin'  ?  Don't  ye  s'pose  Josier  wanted 
tu  come,  an'  Ruby  an'  t'  other  young  uns,  an'  du 
you  s'pose  I  was  goin'  tu  let  'em  come  daown  here 
along  wi'  M'rier  an'  Peltier  and  git  lost  an'  eat  up  ? 
That  would  be  smart !  " 

"  Why,  I  'm  glad  you  come  if  you  can  stan'  it," 
Joseph  declared.  "  Be  you  middlin'  well  ?  An' 
you,  M'ri  an'  Ruby,  an'  'mongst  ye,  an'  you  tew, 
Peltier  ?  Oh,  M'ri,  if  I  hain't  got  the  almighted- 
est  snarl  o'  feathers !  Wai,  not  sech  a  turrible 
sight  on  'em,  but  sech  neat  ones  you  never  did  see 
a'most." 

"Yonder  comes  Lisher  an'  Jerushy  an'  Lovel 


300  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

an'  his  wife  an'  young  un,  all  comin'  tu  ask  what  I 
come  for,  I  '11  lay  a  guinea,"  said  Gran'tner  testily, 
"  an'  if  there  hain't  that  'ere  cussed  Pur'nt'n 
woman  an'  her  man.  I  hain't  nothin'  ag'in  the 
beasts,  but  I  swear  I  wish 't  they  'd  eat  her. 
Young  Gove,  drive  your  hosses  up  tu  the  fence  an' 
hitch  'em !  Sed  daown,  Josier,  'fore  I  knock  ye 
daown.  G'  'long  !  " 

The  horses  were  driven  to  the  nearest  hitching 
place  and  given  a  bundle  of  hay  from  the  hinder 
end  of  the  wagon,  whose  occupants  were  by  this 
time  overtaken  by  their  townsfolk  in  spite  of  Gran'- 
ther  Hill's  attempts  to  elude  Mrs.  Purington. 

"  Wai,  I  should  think  you  'd  'a'  hed  more  regard 
for  your  health,  Capting  Hill,"  the  tired  dame 
panted,  fanning  her  hot  face  with  a  folded  hand 
kerchief,  "  an'  I  don't  see  what  you  let  him  come 
for,  Marier.  It 's  jest  flyin'  in  the  face  o'  Provi 
dence." 

"  Damn  my  health,  marm,  it 's  ol'  'nough  tu  ta' 
keer  of  itself,"  the  veteran  declared,  standing  very 
erect  and  looking  fierce.  "  Haow  d'  ye  s'pose 
M'rier  was  goin'  tu  help  herself  ?  The'  hain't 
nob'dy  flew  yit ;  but  I  wish  t'  the  Lord  Harry  they 
would,  higher  'n  Gilderoy's  kite,  an'  never  light 
this  side  o'  glory  halleuyer." 

"  I  'm  dreatful  glad  you  come,  Cap'n  Hill,"  said 
Sam,  shifting  Bub  to  his  left  arm  that  he  might 
shake  hands  with  the  old  man.  "  They  say  the'  's 
a  bustin'  old  painter  an'  some  wolves." 


THE  CARAVAN.  301 

"  Yis,"  said  Uncle  Lisha,  "  an'  some  Injins  ;  but 
they  won't  le'  ye  kill  'em,  'cause  they  hain't  got 
but  a  few." 

"  Hev  they  got  all  them  ?  "  the  veteran  asked 
eagerly.  "  Come,  let 's  git  aour  keerds  an'  g'w'iii  t' 
the  carryvan  afore  the  young  uns  dies  o'  waitin'. 
Take  a  holt  o'  my  hand,  Bub.  For'a'd,  march." 

As  they  approached  the  thronged  precincts  of  the 
ticket  wagon  and  Sam  detached  himself  from  his 
party  to  enter  into  the  struggle  for  tickets,  he  was 
accosted  by  his  impecunious  youthful  acquaintance 
of  yesterday,  who  was  now  standing  forlornly  apart 
from  the  crowd  with  his  little  brother,  looking  with 

o 

longing  eyes  at  the  blue  and  yellow  cards  as  they 
were  passed  to  the  outstretched  hands  by  the  im 
perturbable  ticket-seller. 

"  You  waii't  one  of  'em,  was  ye  ?  "  said  the  boy, 
with  a  melancholy  smile  of  recognition. 

"  Hello  !  "  Sam  responded  cheerily.  "  Hain't  you 
shavers  goin'  in  ?  " 

The  boy  shook  his  head  in  sorrowful  resigna 
tion. 

"The  big  fellers  got  all  the  jobs,  an'  I  hain't 
got  no  money." 

"You  wait  here  till  I  come  back,"  said  Sam, 
after  a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  shouldered 
his  way  into  the  crowd,  through  which  his  tall, 
strong  figure  enabled  him  soon  to  reach  the  wagon. 
Presently  emerging  from  the  press  somewhat 


302  UNCLE   LISHA'S  OUTING. 

flushed  and  rumpled,  but  smiling,  he  returned  to 
the  boys  and  handed  the  elder  a  couple  of  half 
tickets.  "  There,  bub,  you  an'  the  little  chap  go  in 
an'  see  the  hull  caboodle  on  't,"  and  Sam  rejoined 
his  friends  before  the  boy  could  give  audible  ex 
pression  to  his  thanks  and  astonishment. 

Joining  the  drifting  tide  of  mixed  humanity,  our 
Danvis  friends  were  carried  with  it  inside  the  great 
tent  into  a  world  of  strange  new  sights,  sounds,  and 
atmosphere.  If  this  was  not  the  perfumed  breath  of 
Araby,  these  were  the  beasts  and  birds  and  reptiles 
of  the  tropics  and  far  countries  of  the  earth,  this 
medley  of  discordant  sounds  that  frightened  chil 
dren  and  startled  their  elders,  —  the  natural  every 
day  voices  that  had  shaken  the  torpid  air  of  Indian 
and  African  jungles. 

The  keepers,  who  walked  unconcernedly  in  front 
of  the  cages  and  were  the  familiars  of  the  uncouth 
elephants  and  camels,  bore  such  impress  of  strange 
experience  and  wide  travel  as  made  them  quite 
different  from  ordinary  mortals,  and  speech  with 
them  an  overwhelming  honor. 

"  Yes,  that  'ere  is  a  boar  constructor  or  animal 
condor,"  Solon  Briggs  explained  to  his  neighbors, 
whom,  with  his  wife,  he  had  joined  near  the  front 
of  the  cage  in  which  a  great  serpent  was  coiled. 
"I  s'pect  that  was  the  specie  that  onderminded 
the  humern  race  of  mankind  by  temptin'  of  Eve, 
'cause  you  see  he 's  cal'lated  by  the  dimensions  of 


THE  CARAVAN.  303 

his  len'th  for  reachin'  arter  apples.  An'  that  'ere 
is  the  rile  tiger,  so  called  on  account  of  his  allus 
bein'  riled,  an'  that  critter  that 's  got  stripes  jus' 
like  him  is  called  zebray  on  account  o'  his  resem- 
blin'  a  jackass.  An'  anybody  'ould  know  them 
was  lierns,  only  the  female  specie  hain't  got  no 
mane.  An'  hain't  them  elephants  the  curisest 
freak  o'  hurnerii  natur'?  It  does  appear  'at  if 
they  was  pervided  with  another  pair  of  visible 
organs  in  the  behind  of  'em  they  might  perceed 
back'ards  jest  as  well  as  for'ards,  hevin'  a  tail  on 
each  end  of  'em.  That  'ere  is  called  the  backteryan 
camel  on  account  o'  his  hump." 

"  Poor  creetur's,"  said  Aunt  Jerusha,  "  I  should 
think  they  'd  git  dre'f '1  tired  o'  goin'  humped  up  so 
all  the  time." 

"  Them  is  what  they  kerry  water  in  when  they 
cross  the  de-sart  of  Sary  —  she  't  was  Abram's 
wife,"  said  Solon. 

"  Briggs  must  ha'  made  most  o'  these  'ere  animals 
hisself ,  I  consait,  he  'pears  tu  know  so  much  abaout 
'em,"  Gran'ther  Hill  growled  sarcastically.  "  Come, 
Josier,  le'  's  go  an'  look  o'  the  painter  an'  them 
wolves ;  I  want  tu  see  suthin'  'at  I  know  suthin' 
abaout  myself.  There  !  "  he  continued,  as,  leading 
his  grandson  and  followed  by  Sam  and  Pelatiah, 
he  halted  in  front  of  the  cages  of  these  animals, 
"  that 's  the  sort  o'  pussycat  an'  dogs  'at  used  for 
tu  be  a-yaowlin'  an'  a-yollopin'  raound  yer  gran'- 


304  UNCLE  LIBRA'S   OUTING. 

ser's  campfire  when  he  was  on  airth  the  fust  time. 
Ah,  ye  ol'  yaller  cat !  You  sneakin'  whelps ! 
Yer  gre't  gran'marms  knowed  me." 

He  shook  his  cane  at  them,  and  the  panther 
spat  at  him  and  the  wolves  slunk  into  a  corner  as 
if  each  recognized  in  him  an  ancient  enemy  of  its 
kind. 

Presently  the  attention  of  all  was  drawn  to  the 
performance  of  the  elephants,  when  one  huge  beast 
made  its  majestic  progress  around  the  ring  with  a 
howdah  full  of  delightedly  frightened  children,  and 
the  other  walked  with  slow  and  ponderously  careful 
steps  over  the  prostrate  form  of  the  keeper. 

Then  a  pony  ridden  by  a  monkey  ran  in  the 
ring,  at  which  time  Antoine  made  his  appearance. 
Having  been  entertained  by  many  friends,  he  had 
arrived  at  a  condition  to  fully  enjoy  the  show. 
Now  he  was  in  a  bellicose  humor,  thirsting  for  a 
hand-to-hand  encounter  with  the  bear,  now  he  was 
affectionate,  desiring  to  embrace  every  one,  includ 
ing  the  equestrian  monkey. 

"  Say,  Sam,  Ah  wan'  kees  dat  leetly  nigger. 
Ah  luv  heem  more  as  Ah  luv  mah  fam'ly,  bah 
gosh  !  Ah  '11  was  nabolition  mans,  me,  an'  Ah  '11 
wan'  stole  dat  leetly  nigger.  Sam,  ant  you  wan' 
help  me  stole  dat  leetly  nigger  ?  "  and  so  maundered 
on  till,  to  Sam's  great  relief,  his  attention  was 
directed  to  the  band  and  he  began  to  dance  in 
front  of  it,  dividing  the  attention  of  the  audience 


THE  CARAVAN.  305 

with  the  clown,  who,  with  the  ring-master,  made 
the  nearest  approach  to  a  circus  that  was  then  per 
mitted  in  our  virtuous  commonwealth. 

The  humor  displayed  by  the  clown  in  his  ancient 
jokes  and  repartees  was  irresistible,  and  when  after 
turning  a  succession  of  somersaults  he  ran  his 
painted  nose  against  a  centre  post  of  the  tent  Aunt 
Jerusha  declared  :  - 

"  He 's  the  quickest  witted  man  I  ever  see,  but 
the  clumsiest  creetur'  for  one  'at  's  so  spry  by 
spells.  Eunice  Pur'nt'n,  if  you  've  got  your  cam- 
phire  bottle,  you  le'  me  hev  it  an'  I  '11  go  an'  rub 
some  on  his  nose,  for  it 's  painin'  on  him  turribly,  I 
know  it  is." 

Mrs.  Purington  never  ventured  far  from  home 
without  her  bottle  of  camphor  and  smelling  salts, 
and  possessing  herself  of  the  first  Aunt  Jerusha 
hastened  forth  to  offer  a  balm  for  the  supposedly 
injured  member,  while  audience  and  actors  looked 
on  in  silent  wonder. 

"  Here,  you  poor  distressed  wretch,  le'  me  put 
some  o'  this  sperits  o'  camphire  on  t'  your  nose. 
It'll  take  the  soreness  aout  if  it  does  make  it 
smart  some,"  she  said,  approaching  the  clown,  who 
left  off  his  lamentations  to  stare  at  her  in  dumb 
surprise.  "  Le'  me  rub  some  on  't  right  on,"  she 
urged,  "  or  put  it  on  yourself  if  you  'd  druther." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said  politely,  "  if  you  'd  be  so 
good,  just  a  drop,"  and  he  soberly  submitted  to  the 


306  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

operation  while  the  paint  came  off  his  nose  on  to 
the  tips  of  her  fingers.  "  Thank  you,  dear  old 
lady,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice, "  and  bless  your  kind 
heart.  It 's  done  me  ever  so  much  good." 

He  returned  her  to  her  place  as  politely  as  if 
she  had  been  the  finest  and  fairest  lady  in  the  land, 
and  then  tripping  back  to  the  centre  of  the  ring  he 
propounded  another  conundrum. 

"  Why  is  the  old  lady's  heart  like  my  nose  ?  " 

"  Wai,  sir,  why  is  it  ? "  the  ring-master  de 
manded. 

"  Because  it 's  tender,  of  course,"  was  the  answer, 
and  there  was  tremendous  applause. 

"  Oh,  dear,  it 's  tew  bad,  it 's  tew  bad  !  "  Aunt 
Jerusha  sobbed,  almost  in  dismay  at  having  at 
tracted  such  general  attention,  "  but  if  it  done  him 
a  mite  o'  good,  I  hain't  sorry." 

Now  the  performers  retired  from  the  ring,  the 
lively  measure  of  the  galop  changed  to  a  solemn 
andante,  and  the  audience  breathlessly  awaited  the 
grand  event  of  the  day. 

There  was  a  clang  of  bars  and  an  opening  door, 
and  the  lion  tamer  entered  the  den,  driving  the 
snarling  beasts  to  one  end  of  it,  from  whence  they 
came  one  by  one  at  his  command  and  sullenly  per 
formed  their  parts. 

"  Oh,  dear  suz  !  "  Mrs.  Purington  wailed  in  a 
tearfully  restrained  voice,  "  they  're  a-goin'  tu  eat 
him,  I  know  they  be,  an'  the  show  folks  expex  it. 


THE  CARAVAN.  307 

That's  what  makes  'em  play  so  solemn  on  the 
music,  jus'  for  all  the  world  like  a  fun'al  hyme 
tune.  Say,  mister,"  she  piteously  appealed  to  a 
showman  who  stood  near,  "  won't  you  go  an'  tell 
him  tu  go  right  aout  o'  there  ?  It  don't  seem  as  if 
I  could  stan'  it  tu  stan'  here  an'  see  him  eat  up 
right  afore  my  face  an'  eyes." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,  ma'am,"  said  the  showman, 
"  there  's  no  danger.  The  last  man  they  heat  was 
so  tough  and  disagreed  with  'em  so  bad,  they  ain't 
'ankered  harter  human  flesh  sence.  More  'n  hall 
that,  'Err  Driesbach  is  a  Dutchman,  han'  the 
beastises  can't  habide  the  smell  o'  sailrkraout." 

She  only  half  believed  this  and  kept  her  smelling 
bottle  in  hand  till,  greatly  to  her  relief  and  that  of 
most  of  the  audience,  the  brave  lion-tamer  backed 
out  from  the  royal  presence,  and  the  band  burst 
forth  in  a  jubilant  strain  so  loud  that  it  set  the 
elephants  to  trumpeting  and  all  the  carnivora  to 
roaring  and  howling. 

Every  one  was  glad  that  this  part  of  the  show 
was  over,  but  alas,  it  was  all  over,  and  even  now 
the  shutters  of  the  cages  were  going  up  and  the 
canvas  walls  were  going  down,  and  the  crowd  dis 
persed  except  the  few  who  lingered  for  a  last  look 
at  the  camels  and  elephants,  and  such  as  were 
fooled  into  parting  with  their  money  to  see  the 
hurried,  final  exhibitions  of  the  side  shows. 

Before  the  afternoon  was  much  further  spent  the 


308  UNCLE  LISHA'S  OUTING. 

Danvis  people  were  on  their  homeward  way,  and  a 
little  after  nightfall  their  own  mountains  closed 
around  them  and  again  shut  them  in  from  the  busy 
world  of  which  they  had  had  such  a  brief  but 
memorable  glimpse. 


Rtoerjsibe 


CAMBRIDGE,  MASSACHUSETTS,  U.  S.  A. 

ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY 

H.  O.  HOUGHTON  AND  CO. 


028  602 


